


Forever Is Not Enough

by Plasma and Ink (kirbi)



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: 1864, AH - Freeform, AU, Alternate History, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Multi-Era, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 10:46:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 42
Words: 110,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4345571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirbi/pseuds/Plasma%20and%20Ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1864. Just as virtuous romance blossoms between the polite Damon Salvatore and the beautiful Elena Gilbert, he is forced to leave her behind in a town that is haunted by its own shadow. Suddenly, an innocent courtship is rocked by war, the supernatural, and most importantly: love. AH/AU. DELENA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Visitor

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello, all! Thank you for taking the time to read my story. I hope you'll stay patient with it as I am quite unsure about where it is going - I'm just writing as I go along.
> 
> Rated M for adult themes (language and sex) - though these things don't come along until much later in the story (it is 1864, after all). I'd also like to alert you to the possible (though not guaranteed) TRIGGER WARNINGS: blood, violence, and sexual violence.
> 
> A note on supernatural creatures: especially doppelgängers: Though supernatural creatures play an exceptionally large role in this fic, doppelgängers don't serve any purpose in this story. Therefore, Elena and Katherine – though very similar looking – are not identical.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The change came on the coldest day of the year

**Part I**

**Chapter I**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

In the crisp autumn months of 1864, the golden leaves falling from the trees seemed to be the only thing stirring in Mystic Falls. It was as though the Earth was making an effort to prolong the changes that were just on the horizon, with one day enveloping the children in a blanket of warmth and with the next the wind was biting at their cheeks. The small town could sense the imminent changes lurking like ghosts behind closed doors. Weary mothers and wives wrote letters to their loved ones who were off fighting in the war in hopes they would receive a speedy response. Horses whinnied in their pens and dogs howled at the moon.

Days passed with weary eyes peaking out from the windows when, finally, the change came on the coldest day of the year. Children wiped their little red noses across the thick fabric of their sleeves while their fathers stayed in for the day, sitting with their wives by the hearth. Even though it was midday, the sun could not be seen in the overcast skies - a dreary background compared to the stylish carriage that lazily made its way into town. The children playing in their yards stopped to assess the newcomer who passed by. 

The driver kept his eyes ahead of him, ignoring his surroundings as they passed. Even as the children ran alongside the carriage, shouting and giggling excitedly at the newcomers, he gave no indication that he noticed. However, a gold fan peeked out from inside, and two dark eyes looked over it. Though her face could not be seen, the mysterious woman’s eyes squinted slightly as though she was smiling. She raised her hand in a small wave just as the stagecoach became too fast for the children and they could no longer keep up. 

The town, though small in community, was quite spread out. Most of what came through the small carriage window was the sight of farmland. Miles passed by them until they finally approached the town square. It was an eerie sight; all of the doors were closed and the lights were off. The occasional passerby kept their head down. The only sound to be heard was the cold wind and the resulting quiet ding of the bell in the center of the square. 

Just as the sun began to set, the woman found herself riding up a wobbly dirt road that led to the directly to a large estate. The large trees that lined the road had already lost most of their foliage, giving them a haunted appearance, yet at the end of the tunnel there was light. The Gilbert Residence sat square and tall, the light coming from within an illuminated beacon. Red brick peaked out from behind the large and numerous windows, and thick smoke billowed from both of the chimneys. On either side of the stagecoach, hundreds of rows of tobacco ran out of eye’s reach. 

From the distance, hooves could be heard beating at the ground. A rider was coming. He gave his greeting to the near-comatose driver, to which the woman abruptly shoved her arm out of the carriage to receive his welcome. By the time three reached the house, the entire household and its staff had made their way to the front porch to welcome the visitor. It was a small group of people, the woman noticed, for it was not possible for so few people to work the land she had just seen. Those who did appear to work outdoors and in the stables stood off to the side. Slightly larger in number were those who worked in the house, all of whom stood to the back. It was John Gilbert, his niece Elena, and his nephew Jeremy that stood front and center.

John had only been a resident in Mystic Falls for a little over a year. He came at the request of his brother, Grayson Gilbert; arriving just shortly after his wife had been struck down with consumption. Only three months had passed since John's own wife, Isobel, had died of the same cause. Still grieving and alone, he arrived at the Gilbert Residence directly with his full staff and estate in tow. 

Within the month, Miranda Gilbert was dead, and Grayson was left sitting by her bedside with nothing but her shell to look at. The town united in mourning, lamenting the loss of such a kind and loving woman. 

From then on, Grayson's already deteriorating mental state quickly declined into insanity. He would lock himself away in his study for days, studying old books and journals on the supernatural. The church was furious upon learning of this, and the Reverend himself publicly declared that it was blasphemy. Yet no amount of public scorn or shame could tear Grayson away, for he was sure that his family was cursed and his wife's life was taken by a spirit. Another month passed before John found his brother hanging in his study. No one expected that of him. He was one of the few rational voices among the founding families, and known for his level head. Left behind were just his books, his home, and his children. Until Jeremy Gilbert, Grayson’s only son was of appropriate age to oversee the household, John agreed to stay and act as a regent of sorts. It was no coincidence that he simply had no other place to go.

Following the strange and tragic happenings of the Gilbert family, a letter arrived, addressed to the dead Miranda Gilbert from none other than her own sister. John replied, rather awkwardly, that she would not be able to reply. Apologies followed, of course, for not informing her, but it became apparent that nobody knew Miranda had a sister, not even her own children. A series of correspondence passed between the two before it was finally decided that she would make the journey from Atlanta post-haste. An odd number of circumstances, John thought as he found himself standing between two children whom he still felt were strangers, that led to him meeting this woman. She gracefully exited the carriage with help from her driver, her solemn eyes looking up to the people in front of her as though she had known them long ago and they were simply being reunited. 

"Katherine, I presume?" John asked politely.

Katherine, a vision in all black, broke into a smile upon hearing her name. "I am so pleased to finally meet you all," and then solemnly, "though I am sorry it has not happened sooner."

John stepped forward, taking her hand and bringing it up to his lips before turning to face the children. "I would like to introduce you to your nephew and niece, Jeremy and Elena."

Jeremy followed suit and kissed her hand before offering a reserved, but honest, smile. Katherine took a moment to appraise him, raising an eyebrow and quickly evaluating what she could in the few seconds she had. He was still young, only fifteen, she guessed. Elena hesitated before approaching, taken aback by how familiar her aunt was. Of course, Katherine looked a little like her mother; they had the same color eyes and hair, but it was Elena who truly resembled her. They both shared the same oval-shaped face and olive skin tone, but it was their almond-shaped eyes that truly mirrored one another. Elena offered an unsteady curtsy, never taking her eyes away.

Katherine stepped forward confidently, gently grabbing Elena by the chin to assess her face further. "Now that is the face of a-,” and she faltered for just a moment as though she had forgotten what she wanted to say, “Pierce," she said finally.

-1-


	2. Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am Petrova.

 

**Part I**

**Chapter II**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

It was Elena who showed Katherine to her new room. The interior of the house was craftily designed, though not too opulent. Each element in each room had been hand-picked and hand-crafted. The floor in every room was made of dark oak. Each room was decorated with shades of blue. “It was all my mother’s design,” Elena said as they made their way down the hall. “You will stay in Grandmother’s old room.” Her room was drenched in a grotesque peach color, to Katherine’s horror. Yellowed lace hung in front of the windows and had been draped over the bed. Frames of all shapes and sizes covered a whole wall, the same cat scowling down from all of them. “Charlie,” Elena explained. “The only living thing on this planet that Grandmother was ever kind to.”

Katherine laughed a little as Elena made her way to the door. “You can take them down, of course.”

“Perhaps.”

“I can help,” she offered.

“I would like that, dear.”

Katherine remained elusive until the next evening. Her place at the table was empty during breakfast, which was more extravagant than usual. Her handmaiden, Emily, disappeared into her room around midday and neither of them reappeared until dinner. John had invited the Salvatore Family to attend, as well as the sheriff and his wife. Giuseppe Salvatore’s land shared a border with the Gilbert’s, and had been a long time friend of Grayson’s. Likewise, he and John became close over time. His sons, Damon and Stefan, also attended. The sheriff came by extension of Giuseppe. He claimed it was his job to welcome all newcomers, which Katherine thought strange. 

The room was alight with candles and laughter and no one seemed to notice the flirtation between Damon and Elena. Occasionally, she would brush her elbow up against his arm in an attempt to be closer to him, if only for a moment. He would smile briefly before sliding his knee up against hers under the table. Then, they would quickly draw away from each other, as if someone was bound to catch them. As the first course was served, Elena noticed Stefan watching disapprovingly from across the table. 

Stefan was only a year older than Elena. Everyone around them thought they were sure to marry when they came of age, but neither had ever shared that assumption. At first glance, one would think he was jealous, but it was more likely that he thought it was unseemly table manners. She met his gaze defiantly, relishing the thought of her rebellion. His eyes did not linger long though, as he quickly turned his attention to Katherine, with whom he had been speaking all night.

"You said you've been traveling," John said to Katherine. "Whereabouts?"

"Emily and I had only been in Atlanta for a few days when I first wrote to you. We had just come from Europe, you see. We spent a few weeks in Spain, but most of our time was spent in France."

"Where did you stay?" Stefan said, looking at her intently. "Do you have family there?"

"Oh, no," she smiled. "We were seldom still in our travels, going from one friend to the next."

"It was good of them to offer you sanctuary," John said.

"Unquestionably," she replied. "None of my travels would have ever been possible without those kind enough to invite me into their homes - like you all." Her eyes landed on each Gilbert individually, a silent thank you hanging in the space between them. "I never would have made myself so scarce had I known…" The table hung their heads silently, just for a moment. It seemed bringing up the subject of Grayson and Miranda at the dinner table was too unpleasant still. Emily shifted uncomfortably where she stood.

As if sensing the need to change the subject, John turned to the Sheriff. "William, have you any news about the missing girl? What was her name?"

William leaned back in his chair, a grim look on his face. "Annabelle,” he said darkly. Her mother runs the apothecary in the square. A few days ago, a man and his son came across a bloody gown while they were hunting in the woods north of here. She was only sixteen." 

“Ah, but a bloody gown does not indicate that she is dead,” John said.

William chuckled darkly, “A bloody gown indicates a bloody body that was once in it.”

The ladies at the table sat their forks down upon hearing this, however, none of them were repulsed as they appeared. The sheriff cleared his throat, glancing at them all. "But perhaps now is not the best to time to speak of such matters."

John nodded. "You’re right, but at least tell me you have caught the man responsible."

Katherine motioned for Emily to come pour her another glass of wine, keeping her eyes on the table. 

"Not a trace." 

“A damn shame,” Giuseppe interjected suddenly. “Pardon me, ladies, but this town’s virtue has been unsoiled since its creation. Up from the ashes we rose, and the threat of our extinction comes from a man who is too cowardly to even show his face… I cannot even describe the fury it arouses.”

“Well said.”

“Hear, hear.” 

Elena peaked up for a moment to catch John’s eye. Again, he made a motion to change the subject. “We can speak of this later, sheriff, perhaps tomorrow.”

After dinner, the sheriff parted with a warning to the ladies. “Be careful and never go anywhere alone,” he ordered. 

Damon made sure to kiss Elena's hand, offering a small smile and a wink before his father could pull him out of the door. He left in Elena's hand a small slip of paper. She had come to learn that Damon liked to pretend that their courtship was a very secret affair that only they knew about. The paper only held a hastily drawn picture of a rose, and the words, "This flower shall never die, nor will our love." Elena could feel her cheeks flush as she folded the paper up. This was a response to a conversation they had about a week ago; Elena lamented the idea of presenting of women with flowers when tearing them out of the ground was nothing more than a death sentence.

Katherine came up from behind her, snatching the white, little square from her fingers. "What have we here?"

Elena's eyes widened, unsure of how to approach the still unfamiliar woman. Forcing a playful smile, she reached out towards her, "Dear aunt, you would stoop to embarrass your loving niece this way?"

Katherine held the paper out of reach, "Would this happen to be from that brooding little puppy that just left?"

Elena smirked, "Which one?"

The two giggled and Katherine finally handed the piece of paper over without so much as glancing at it. "Just be careful; boys like that will just give you their attention to amuse themselves." Elena frowned at this, wanting to deny it, but knew there was no use. It seemed adults were always trying to warn her away from men, while simultaneously expecting her to find one and marry him quickly. "Will you go fetch your brother and bring him to my room? I would like to speak with you both."

Elena followed her orders without question, quickly retrieving Jeremy from his room. When the two arrived at their destination, Katherine was sitting in front of her mirror while Emily brushed her hair. 

She stood, quietly shutting the door and took a small box from her dresser. "I needed to speak with you without your uncle present," she started. "This matter does not concern him." They watched her move across the room without a word until she quietly ordered them to sit. Standing in front of them, she opened a little box, revealing two silver rings. She placed one in each of their hands. "These rings have been in our family for centuries. They call me Pierce, but I am Petrova," her tongue curled around the name as if she was speaking another language, "as was your mother, as are you. The Petrovas are a very old bloodline, and we are known for our resilience. These rings will bring you luck. I cannot help think that if your mother had one, things might have been different."

Elena turned the ring over in her hand, but there were not any significant markings on it that made it any different from any other ring. It was just a simple silver band, though rather fat for so dainty a finger as her own, she thought. "I know I may still be a stranger to you, but it would make me feel better if you would wear them."

Jeremy shrugged and slipped it on his finger, "Of course, Aunt Katherine."

Elena followed suit, "Thank you."

Katherine smiled, obviously pleased, before leaning in to look them both in the eyes. " _Now go to sleep, and do not mention this conversation to anyone._ "

 

-2-


	3. The Date

**Part I**

**Chapter III**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Elena paced in front of the window, occasionally stopping to peel back the curtain to view the front lawn. Katherine sat idly by with a copy of Great Expectations open in her hands. "Sit down," she commanded without looking away from her book. "You are making me nervous."

Elena stopped in her tracks, looking to the floor with red cheeks before finding a seat in the chair next to her aunt. Jeremy smirked, "Whatever could have my dear sister acting such a fool? Is she expecting someone?" He and Katherine shared a smile.

"Of course not," she denied. "I'm only growing tired of being cooped up in this house."

"Would you like me to accompany you on a walk?"

"Oh, yes," Katherine agreed. "I’ll join you; some fresh air would be lovely."

"No!" Elena jumped up again, looking out at the green lawn again. They knew exactly who she was waiting on, of course. Every Tuesday Damon Salvatore would stroll up the walkway with some small task he needed to do in town. Saying he knew how Elena liked the fresh air, he would casually ask if she could accompany him. It was very clever; this way they could have alone time together, but still be accountable and therefore, trustworthy.

When she finally saw him approaching the house, her heart skipped. He wore a contented smile as he eyed the pink and orange sky in the distance. "John!" she shouted, bouncing up the stairs.

She turned the corner to find John sitting at her father's old desk, an unmarked book in his hand. "What is it, dear?"

"Nothing," she shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "I- I think they need you downstairs. I will be in my room if you need me."

John smiled slightly, setting down his things before heading down the stairs. Even though his family was still so unfamiliar to him, it was not lost on him how good they were. Elena was fair and sweet. She would have to calm herself before she could marry, but even with her hyperactivity she was very marriageable. A number of families would gladly welcome her into their home, and with the undeniable beauty her mother left with her, she would indeed find a good one. Jeremy, on the other hand, was rebellious and felt no inclination to follow his father's footsteps into the medical field. Still, he was well built and handsome. His will outweighed every obstacle in his life and John hoped he would have the sense and luck to bring honor to his family somehow.

Just as he reached the bottom of the staircase, there was a loud knock at the front door. Once opened, Damon Salvatore greeted him with a smile. "Good evening, sir," he began, holding out his hand.

"Damon, come in."

"Oh, I'm afraid this isn't a social call. I was on my way to the post office," he lifted up a package wrapped in brown paper and secured by a string. "I thought Elena might want to join me on the walk there."

"I don't know," John sighed, casting a smirk to the floor. "It is a little late."

Damon tried to mask the defeated look in his eyes, holding on to his faltering smile as hard as he could. "Of course. I suppose I should have come earlier."

Katherine came up behind him, smiling.  "Don't be so mean, John. You'll scare him off."

Damon looked up at them both with wide, questioning eyes. “I don't understand."

"He's only joking with you, right John?"

The older man laughed, taking Damon's hand once again. "I suppose, though I do prefer you bring her home before sundown. That killer is still on the loose, you know."

Damon sighed, relieved. "Of course, sir."

"Elena!" John called. "You have a caller!"

As John had his back turned, Damon looked at Katherine gratefully, though she was already staring intently at him. She took one of his hands in hers and placed a small envelope in his palm. Before he could question what was happening, he realized he could not look anywhere but her eyes. " _Give this to Stefan when you return home_ ," she said quietly. He slid the paper into his pocket casually. He mustn't forget that he had a note to deliver to Stefan once he got home.

Elena finally came out from her hiding place behind the wall, descending the stairs as gracefully as she could manage. She kept her chin high and her chest out, but she still stumbled a little on the top step. Damon's face didn't give away that he noticed. She knew her face should only show a note of reserved happiness to see him, but she could feel it looked more like she was chomping down on her bottom lip to keep from smiling too broadly. She couldn't help it. With Damon, she felt a tightening in her chest that made it hard to breathe, as though all the happiness he gave her was trying to be felt at once. He looked so handsome, waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her. His navy blue suit fit just as it should, but his hair was disheveled, with the whole mess of it brushed off to the side. 

He took her hand to assist her down the last few steps before pressing her fingers against his lips. "Miss Elena," he smiled.

"Damon," she replied.

"You look lovelier than the time I saw you last."

"Or perhaps your eyesight is getting better."

He chuckled, taking her light blue shawl from her hands and draping it over her shoulders.

After they left, they walked silently for a moment while the Gilbert estate was close, looping their arms through the other's and enjoying the beautiful colors in the sky.

Damon broke the silence. "How did my gift suit you?"

"A flower that never dies," she said, glancing at him. "You  _are_  clever."

A sideways smile took over his features, "I suppose you bring it out of me."

Her cheeks flushed and she looked down at the package in his hands. "What is it you are sending?"

"It's a box of rocks," he laughed. "I'm sure I'll find somewhere to send it."

Elena scoffed, pulling the package from his hands and shaking it next to her ear. Indeed, she heard the heavy shapes colliding with each other inside, "Tis a scoundrel speaking!"

He laughed, trying to snatch the package from her hands. "Are you calling me a Tartuffe, Miss Gilbert?"

"A scoundrel!" she squealed giddily. He was very near her now, wrapping his arms around her waist and then up by her head. She was quick and her long arms easily kept the package out of his reach. Finally, he was able to grasp at both of her arms to stop her movement, they stood like that for a moment, faces inches from one another's. He found himself running his thumb along the inside of her wrist and considered the consequences of stealing a quick kiss right then. She glanced down at his lips only momentarily before meeting his gaze, and he realized he had released both of her arms to hold her slim waist. Her face grew ever closer to his, until suddenly she broke out with a dastardly smirk, easily breaking free and taking off up the dirt road. Damon smiled, though disappointed he hadn't taken a chance when he had the opportunity, and ran after her.

 

-3-


	4. Family

**Part I**

**Chapter IV**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Damon had Elena home just on time. Upon looking back at the slowly darkening house, he noticed a small light had illuminated from within her room. A shadow passed over the wall from inside and then she was there, smiling down at him from the window. He stopped to face her, a smirk on his face. She undid her shawl and let it fall from her shoulders to reveal her shoulders and the top of her chest, covering her mouth with her hand as though it was an accident. He laughed, hoping she couldn’t see him blush. She gave a small curtsy, and he returned with a bow. 

The sun had completed its descent into the horizon as he crossed through the large field that separated his and the Gilbert’s house. The harvest was coming, and the tobacco was almost too tall for him to see over. The farmers had already gone home for the night. There was nothing but the cool breeze stirring up the sea of green around him. There was a foreboding in the air. An eerie feeling came over him as though there were two eyes grazing his back. He turned quickly just as something moved behind him. A chill ran up his spine and he did not waste another second returning home. 

Upon arriving, he immediately went to find Stefan. The house was quiet as usual. There was no light in the parlor, forcing him to feel his way towards the staircase. He heard hushed voices coming from inside his father’s study, and suddenly his mind went blank. Gone were the thoughts of Elena and strangers hidden by tobacco. Now he could only see Katherine. Give this to Stefan, she had instructed. The words rang over and over in his mind.

Without another thought in his head, Damon entered abruptly. "Stefan," he said.

His father looked at him like a fly that was too fast to swat. "We are speaking, Damon. Have you no courtesy?”

"It is important," Damon said, although he could not say why it was important - because he was not quite sure. 

"It will still be important in the morning then," his father responded. He stood up from his chair, as if challenging his son. Stefan watched, uneasily standing as well.

Damon moved towards Stefan, going as far as he could around his father. His arm held the note out to Stefan, but before it could reach his brother, his father lunged at him. Strong hands came down on his chest, knocking him into the wall and, for a moment, out of his stupor. "You will do anything to disobey me, won't you?" Again Giuseppe slammed his hands into his son's chest, this time grabbing at his coat and a bit of flesh in order to raise him to his feet. He slammed him into the wall once, his head smashing into the hinge of the door. Damon’s eyes never left his brother. He did not flinch, did not cry out. There was nothing but Katherine’s voice in his head. 

When Giuseppe finally let go, Damon handed the note to his brother. It wasn't until a second after that he seemed to realize what was going on around him. Pain seeped into his bones and blood rushed to his cheeks.

"You want me to behave like this?” Giuseppe growled. “Is that what you want, son?"

Damon's confused eyes went between the men in front of him, one concerned and the other cold. "I really needed to deliver that to Stefan," Damon explained, even though now it didn't make sense to him anymore.

Giuseppe advanced towards Damon again, knocking him on the side of his head with his fist. "You need to obey!" he roared. “Are you listening to me at all?”

At that, Stefan stepped forward, taking the baffled Damon into his arms. Looking back to his father, he forced a smile on his face, "I believe he is just tired. If you will permit, I will take him to bed now. Sleep well, now."

Once safe in his own room, Damon put his head in his hands. When Stefan asked what was wrong with him, he realized he had no idea; he couldn't remember. "What does the note say?” Damon asked after a moment of silence.

Stefan looked down at the small piece of paper, turning it around in his hands. Once he unfolded it, a smile hit his face like a ton of bricks. "It is from Katherine."

"Right! Katherine!" Damon knew that somehow. He laid back, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off a pounding headache. "Has she confessed her love for you, brother?" 

"It's just flirtation.”

"But what would Father say?" Damon pressed, his face turning sour. "Nothing, of course. You could court our cow and it would not taint your status as the favorite."

Stefan sighed, "We both know old Betty is too good for me."

Damon laughed out loud. From the way his torso and back ached, he could tell he was not in good shape. Perhaps they were only bruises this time; he couldn't feel any open wounds. "What were you and father talking about?"

"You wouldn't believe me."

"I'll always believe you, brother."

-4-


	5. The Council

**Part I**

**Chapter V**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

The day was cold and the sky was bleak. Damon and Elena walked arm and arm through the Salvatore's maze-like garden. Jeremy walked close enough to see them, but not to hear them if they lowered their voices. "I have to tell you something," Elena said, glancing back at her brother.

Damon's eyes remained ahead of him. He had made his father especially angry the night before and his body was freshly sore. Elena was wrapped tightly around his arm, and though he didn't want her to move away, her elbow was digging into his side. The pain seeped through his abdomen, and his jaw was tensed to keep from groaning. "Yes?"

She hesitated, thinking very carefully on how to word it. "Before I tell you, you must swear yourself to secrecy, Damon. You mustn't tell anyone. Not even Stefan."

He grinned slightly. "Of course. I wouldn't think of it."

She glanced back at Jeremy again to make sure he was still at a reasonable distance. Although he was acting as their escort, he had brought along an old telescope to play with, and was paying neither of them any attention. "I am worried about my uncle. He has been behaving strangely."

Damon had an odd feeling he knew what she was talking about. When they spoke the other night, Stefan had told him the founders were getting together almost daily now. They had even named themselves The Founder’s Council. They were under the impression that something was amiss in Mystic Falls - something dark. Two young men had gone missing shortly after the girl named Anabelle. Their names were Richard and Alexander, and unlike the long-missing girl, their bodies were found two days after they disappeared. Their bodies were discovered hanging from trees on the outskirts of town, drained of blood.

The townspeople flew into an uproar. Not one person in that town had ever been exposed to such depraved wickedness. It was a woman and her children that found the bodies. Their horrified screams were heard in every corner of Mystic Falls. 

It was then that John Gilbert finally emerged from the shadows with his brother’s books and diaries in hand. No one was ready to accept the truth when Grayson Gilbert went on a campaign to expel the evil that haunted his home. The town denounced him as a madman, spewing godless lies about the devil and magic. Now that there were men hanging from their toes with their heads halfway severed from their bodies. Now, they were ready to believe. 

Following their fearless leader, Mayor Benjamin Lockwood, they began training themselves to hunt the monsters. First was the nasty business of disguising the murders as animal attacks. It took a gross amount of lying and convincing, but no one had any reason to believe that those good, virtuous men would lie. Then, they spent their time together reading the texts and learning everything they could. There were hundreds of passages about ancient demons that fed on the lives of humans. There were stories of cities and empires being caught in an invisible plague with bloodless dead bodies piling up in the streets. 

The Council came to three conclusions. The first and most obvious, was that these monsters survived only off the blood of living things. The second was that they could never walk in the light of day. The third was that they were irrevocably evil in nature.

This is what Damon knew.

Elena took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts and posing her words carefully. "Uncle John has been hidden away in my father's study, missing meals, sleeping during the day. Between that and those meetings with the Founder’s Committee–“

“Council.”

“Yes, council. They spend so much time together, but I wonder what they could possibly be speaking of all of this time. They discovered who killed those poor boys, no? It was an animal. What more are they searching for? There has not been a disappearance in two weeks.”

She paused to let him speak, but he kept quiet for the time being.

“What if he is ill? It is so much like when my father was –" She stopped short, her eyes falling to the ground.

He yearned to wrap his arms around her. He imagined her head would fit in the crook of his shoulder nicely. Perhaps she would finally be close enough for him could inhale the perfume that clung to her skin. Perhaps she would look up at him with that sweet look she got now and then, that look that made him feel he wasn't supposed to be anywhere else. Perhaps he could even kiss her. He would do anything to take that sadness from her eyes. Instead, he pulled her closer to his side – flinching only a little – and lowered his voice further. "Stefan can tell you more than I."

Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "What could Stefan know about my uncle?"

"John and our father have got on rather well, as I hear it."

“And?”

“It was no animal who attacked those people.”

Now Elena was truly confused. She only wished to confide in Damon that John had caught the madness that plagued her father. Never did she expect it would have anything to do with those who died. She listened carefully as Damon confided in her everything he knew. It was ridiculous, of course. That Damon would even tell her made her think that he wasn't taking her seriously.

She looked at the ground as they walked. "Now I am certain you are playing a joke on me."

"No!" he assured her, trying to keep quiet. "Please, I am telling you everything I know."

She looked into his eyes, searching to see if anything but the truth that lay behind those blue orbs, but his expression was earnest as he gazed into her face. "I'm sorry," she sighed. "I must be confused."

“Let me take you home, Miss Elena.” He reached over to pull her jacket tighter around her. “It is too cold.”

-5-


	6. Miss Katherine

**Part I**

**Chapter VI**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Just as the town of Mystic Falls thought the sun had forever disappeared behind a wall of gray clouds, it made a glorious return. It was high in the sky as Stefan made his way across the still green grass of the Gilbert's lawn, a lifeless leaf crunching under his foot now and again. He squinted against the light, but didn't shy away from the heat that enveloped him. It had been so long since he had felt the sun on his face and it made him feel as though he was glowing from within. It seemed that, until that day, all the happiness had been drained from the town. Mothers forbade their children from going to school, shop owners had 'closed' signs in their windows, and absolutely no one wandered around at night. Though the supposed animal that wreaked havoc on the town had been rumored to have moved on, nobody wanted to risk it. Now the streets were lonely and quiet, but with the sun shining down on him, he could pretend it was happiness he felt. He could pretend that it was the warmth that had long since disappeared from the town.

He couldn't help but think his newfound bliss was coming from something else, as well. Just a few more steps and he would get to see Katherine. For weeks, they'd been secretly sending each other letters that confessed to each other their blossoming affections and meeting in out-of-the-way places, but it wasn't until just yesterday that she finally sent him a formal invitation to tea. He had not said anything to his father, not even Damon, for he knew this was rather scandalous. She was too old for him - far too old to marry. Stefan had never asked, but she must have been at least twenty-five. It would not be proper. He was only seventeen. He had often dreamed of running off with her, going somewhere where everyone was a stranger to them. They could marry and live on a farm, and she could still give him a child. In his dreams Damon would be there too because he couldn't be happy without his best friend.

He had been so lost in his thoughts it surprised him when the door opened. It was Emily who greeted him. "I am here for Miss Katherine," he said, stumbling over his words. She smirked as though she were looking at a little puppy begging for scraps at the dinner table, but opened the door without a word.

Katherine sat in the parlor, her eyes trained on the door when he walked in. She stood, a smile on her face, but didn't move from her place. "Good afternoon, Mr. Salvatore."

He approached, a little too quickly, giving a small bow in response to her curtsy. "Good afternoon."

"Please sit," she said, following her own directions. Perched on her chair, she looked like an elegant muse right out of a painting. Not a hair was out of place and the hoopskirt of her dress fell perfectly around her, the lace moving slightly with the warm breeze coming in through an open window. He felt all the air leave his body, as though he couldn't focus as long as she was this beautiful. A young girl entered the room with a tray in her hands, and placed it on the table. Just as she started to pick up the teapot, Katherine held up her hand. The girl didn't even look up; she blankly straightened and went to stand by the door. Stefan eyed the corpse-like girl - only slightly uncomfortable - before turning back to Katherine. "I'm sure you are curious as to why I would ask you here like this." She picked up the teapot now and poured the steaming liquid into each cup. 

He nodded, taking a cup from the table.

"I also have a feeling that your family, as well as mine, would not be happy to know of the affection I have for you."

He went cold, fearing she had only called on him to tell him they couldn't go on as they had before. He nodded slowly.

She placed her cup back on its saucer on the table. There was a moment of silence, filled only with the sound of two ticking clocks. One was only slightly ahead of the other, creating a disorienting noise that repeated over and over. _Ti-Tick. Ti-Tick. Ti-Tick._ Finally, Katherine sighed. "I want you to know that I have no intention of ending our relationship, Stefan." She stood, holding back her skirts to sit on the couch next to him. Relieved, he brushed her hair away before gently kissing her shoulder. "You see, Stefan, I always get what I want, and I very much want you."

He breathed her in, so relieved by her words. Visions of her flashed before his eyes: the perfect Katherine with her hair loosely pulled back, locks falling in her eyes as played with their little boy. He would have her eyes and her dark hair; he would have her everything. In the corner, there would be a crib and he could hear the coos of a little girl. Perfect. The feeling of her hand in his hair finally drew him out of the thought, "My father will never approve. We'll have to run away."

She laughed and gently pushed him away. "That will not be a problem, darling.”

“Why?” he frowned.

“Because I do not intend for anyone to find out about this.” 

"Why?" he repeated.

"There is something you need to know about a girl like myself: I get by with the help of a few things. One of those things is a lonely man with very large pockets. That won’t work if they think they have one of my angry lovers coming after them."

He stirred at this, scowling. "But you won’t need those men if you have me."

She frowned, forcing his eyes to find hers. "I have other ways of getting what I want, Stefan. Ways you don't understand yet, but you'll understand this: _in public, you are nothing more than a boy with a tenderness for a beautiful woman_."

His eyes went blank. "You are beautiful, Katherine."

She smirked, "I know. Now, there is something else I need from you."

"Anything."

"Get Sarah," she called without looking back. The girl who had brought their tea disappeared for a moment before promptly returning with another girl. She was slightly older, but they wore their hair alike and had the same skin tone. Sisters, he thought. "This is Sarah," Katherine continued. "She is a very important friend of mine."

He nodded politely towards her, but she only looked ahead with the same dreamy look as her sister. Katherine, however, stared at him intently as she took the girl's hand into hers, slipping her sleeve up her arm. Now he was confused, but she did not say a word. Instead, she raised the girl's wrist to her mouth. At first he thought she was kissing it, until he saw a small drop of blood run down her chin. Katherine's eyes were dark red and he could see the veins pulsing in her face. He stumbled backwards, the sight making bile rise in his throat. 

Now his visions of Katherine were stained with blood; the crib was turned over and a pale little boy hung limp in his arms. He turned on his heels, ready to run, but Katherine was already in front of him. " _You are calm_ ," she said, the pupils in her eyes shrinking. " _You do not want to run. You feel just the same as you did before_."

He felt his pulse slow down and he slowly sat back down. "I do not understand."

" _Sit_ ," she ordered. "You see, I am one of those big, bad monsters your father and every other simple-minded clod in this town are talking about."

"You are the one who has been killing people?"

"Unfortunately, no. Sarah keeps me fed so I don't do silly things like that. Whoever is killing all of those people must be a new vampire. Someone as old as I am would never do something so foolish." She brushed the hair out of his eyes. "That's what I need you for." She grabbed his handkerchief from its pocket and offered it to Sarah. "I don't want her blood anymore. I want yours." He looked down at his wrist. Everything was so muddled now. He was calm, but he was very scared. His instincts were telling him to run, but his mind was telling him to stay. She followed his gaze down, running her fingers over his skin.

"What if I say no?"

For a moment he feared she would be angry, but she never even flinched. "If you say no, then I will ask you to leave and I won't see you anymore. I will make sure you do not remember this, and I will let you go on to find another woman - one your father would approve of."

He frowned at that thought. "You won't let me see you anymore."

"Not even when I leave, will I want you to say goodbye."

He made his decision then, and offered his wrist to her without thinking about it for another second. She smiled, grasped his hand with hers and wrapped her mouth around his wrist. He flinched. For some reason, he thought it would not hurt; Sarah hadn't even made a noise, yet he felt the sharp bite in his veins and his heartbeat in the tips of his fingers. When she was finished, there were only two tiny holes on his wrist. She ducked down to catch his lips with hers, taking him by surprise. "With everyone looking for someone like me, I can't leave you with a nasty bite like this one."

Once again, he was confused - and light-headed. "What do I do?"

She raised her own wrist to her mouth, taking a small bite and offering it to him. "Let's play copycat."

-6-


	7. The Informant

**Part I**   


**Chapter VII**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Stefan sat back, wiping the blood from his mouth. He hadn't been as graceful as Katherine in his effort to take her blood and he struggled to keep it from dripping on his clothes. He watched as the holes on this wrist slowly closed, and tried to understand everything he was feeling. He felt full, as if he had just eaten an entire meal. It felt as if every nerve in his body had begun to move inside of him; it was as though he was going to vibrate out of his chair. His teeth chattered and he felt as he did when he was scared, with the bottom of his spine tingling and twitching. It was like someone lit a fire under him and he needed to move around. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling – he just couldn't stop smiling. It was as though he had never been alive until that moment. He stood up and began to pace back and forth.

Katherine giggled, "How do you feel?"

He swung around to meet her gaze, "Like I could do anything!"

"Can you come sit next to me?"

He was too restless to sit still, but he wanted so much to be near Katherine all the time. He forced himself down where he was sitting before. She took his hand once more and placed a gentle kiss on the spot where she had bitten. "Thank you."

God, she was so beautiful. When he looked at her he swore he could feel a tremor run through his ribcage. He looked at her for a moment before he couldn't sit still for another second longer. It was anything but gentle when he smashed his lips into hers. He was clumsy, unpracticed, but she was so perfect that he didn't feel anything but grateful she was there in front of him. He felt her smile against his lips and it brought back the warmth he felt outside. He'd never kissed anyone before. He had only once kissed Elena on the cheek, but it didn't feel right. It didn't feel like this.

Too soon, she gently pushed him away, and he looked as if he was coming out of a haze. She grabbed his face, forcing his eyes to land on hers. "I need you to focus, Stefan. I only need one more thing."

Suddenly, his vision cleared and the fog dissipated in his head. He nodded beneath her grip.

"I need to know everything your father knows."

This confused him. Surely his father knew a lot – he was an educated man. There was too much for him to tell her. His father knew how to whittle and he could break a horse. There was the entirety of his education, and of course he knew all about Mystic F-

"Specifically," she sighed, bringing him from his thoughts, "about vampires." Now he understood; vampires are what his father had referred to as 'them'. "Do they have any suspects?"

"There's a cabin out in the woods. A freeman lives there alone."

"Anyone else?"

"They are compiling a list of everyone they have seen walking in the daylight, but it is taking some time."

She sighed and looked down for a moment. They don't know anything. "Can they kill a vampire?"

"If you stake a vampire in the heart, it will die."

"Do they know of vervain?"

He tried to nod again and she realized she was still holding his face. She released him before he spoke. "They've begun buying large quantities from an apothecary in town."

"What are they going to do with it?"

"They're hiding it in things that vampire could potentially touch; perfumes, liquor, food. They'll know who's a vampire if it burns them."

She rolled her eyes. At least they weren't wearing it, or worse, ingesting it. "If anyone asks you to drink vervain, you must tell me."

"Why?"

"Because, it could hurt me if it's in your blood."

He shook his head furiously, "I won't hurt you, I promise."

She took his hand in hers and patted it softly. "Of course not, darling. Now, where are they getting all of this information?"

"John Gilbert has a stash of books. Most of the information is useless, but there is one book that has been especially helpful. It's a journal. They say he got it from one of the founding fathers."

"Did he? And where do they keep this journal."

"John keeps all the information in his brother's study. Only he has the key, so they're safe."

"Safe as they can be when I'm around."

-7-


	8. Smoke

**Part I**

**Chapter VIII**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Katherine looked down the empty hall. She had compelled Elena and Jeremy to stay in their rooms, but she couldn't risk trying to compel John if he had vervain; there was always a chance he could have it on him. He'd been speaking to Mr. Salvatore in the parlor, but she couldn't get the door to Grayson's office open without making noise. The two men carried on below her.

"We can't go on like this John."

The sun had gone down and their conversation had sped up, Mr. Salvatore was obviously in a hurry to get home.

Katherine smiled. Though she wasn't the direct cause for their fear, it made her happy in some way that her own kind had struck fear into the hearts of these men. They were born with only one job: to live. Now, they faced adversity; something threatened their easy existence. They were scared, in a way, of her. They didn't know it, and she wanted to keep it that way, but it filled her with joy to think of the look in their eyes should she ever decide to kill them.

She tried the door handle, but it wouldn't budge and made more noise then she was comfortable with when she shook it. She needed to get to those books and destroy the available information before they became too familiar with it. Just as she was considering sneaking outside and breaking in through the window, she realized the conversation had ceased and footsteps were making their way up the hall. She flew back further into the hall and waited until the footsteps evened out. As John made his way down the hall, she casually began walking towards him. "I was just coming to remind Mr. Salvatore of the time," she lied. "The sun goes down quickly these days."

He smiled awkwardly, "No need to worry."

As they came to meet in front of his office door, she thought she would try something just once. Focusing as hard as she could without being obvious, she looked deep into his eyes. "It's rather cold, isn't it?"

In actuality, it was incredibly hot. A fire was burning in every room to ward off the impending cold and offered light against the dark. She could see sweat forming on his brow, but she just needed to hear his answer. "Indeed," his body shook a little. "I might sleep with an extra blanket tonight."

She was so relieved that she smiled. As of yet, they knew that vervain was a weapon against vampires, but they had no idea how else it would protect them. "That's a good idea, but first, could you unlock the study?"

He looked ahead blankly, fishing in his pockets for the keys. Katherine smirked; what was this man compared to her? He was dough in her hands, raw meat in her eyes. Pathetic, she thought. He unlocked the door and looked back to her dreamily. "Now, go to bed and forget this ever happened."

He nodded and walked the rest of the way to his room without looking back. Katherine entered the room quietly, shutting the door behind her. The room was a mess. There were books upon books strewn across the floor. Some were open and some were closed, stacks started from the floor and towered above her head. Her stomach dipped. She expected a few books on the supernatural, maybe a copy of The Vampyre, but nothing like this. There was literature, journals, and pieces of parchment covering every inch of the room. She could never go through it all… there was a glimmer of hope before, that she could find their source and toy with it. She would have every man in town wearing a frilly skirt if they thought it would protect them. But there was too much to go through now. She took a deep breath to focus herself. There were a few things she needed to do.

First, she went to Elena's room. The girl was sitting on her bed, staring off into space just as she had left her. She looked her in the eyes. "Go downstairs. Wait by the door. I'll come for you."

Elena nodded.

After she had done the same to Jeremy, she made her way to John's room. She could hear him stirring on the inside. She wrapped her fingers around the doorknob and squeezed. The metal squeaked quietly in protest, but bent easily in her hands. She twisted until it finally broke off.

With that, she grabbed a candle and a lantern that sat in the hallway and carried it back to the study. She didn't stop to think once her decision was made. Instead, she held the flame to every thing she could: first, to the open books, and then to the curtains. She stepped back from the fire, weary of the heat, but once the curtains had gone up in flames the rest didn't stand a chance. She took one more second to admire her handiwork before throwing the lantern in the center of the room.

She walked calmly down the stairs, but she could already feel the smoke fill her lungs. When she looked up, she could see a dark cloud hovering over her. Jeremy and Elena stood before the door; they were coughing, but didn't move from where they stood. She put her hands on their shoulders to get their attention but brought a finger to her lips to keep them quiet. She wanted to wait just a bit longer before the poor Gilbert family came running helplessly out of their burning home. She could hear John in a fit of coughs above them, but it only made her smile.

When her niece and nephew couldn't bear it any longer, and their eyes filled with tears and their coughs become nothing more than wheezes, she finally decided it was time. "Jeremy, you woke up to smoke and came looking for us when you realized something was burning. You woke your sister, then me, and brought us downstairs." Her pupils returned to normal and she opened the door. "Now run."

-8-


	9. Fire

**Part I**

**Chapter IX**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Elena woke slowly. It felt as though she had been suspended somewhere between alive and dead for days. Her lungs burned slightly and she struggled to fill them all the way with air. She smelled something burning, but she didn't want to open her eyes. She wanted to be unconscious, blissfully unaware of the pain in her lungs and in her hips. Instead, she forced her eyes open. She was buried in a pile of soft fabric, lurking so deep under it all that she couldn't see anything but the ceiling above her. Light jumped across the ceiling, likely a result of whatever she heard burning. She sat up and a fire crackled in the fireplace to her left, but it wasn't like her fireplace… or any fireplace in her home. This one was made of white marble with gold accents; her own was made of clay bricks. The room was a sullen gray color, marked with dark oak furniture. Pretty, she thought, but unfamiliar.

Just as she was about to investigate further, she heard someone at the door. It opened slowly and only just a sliver. A foot slid in first followed by a body, and then wavy black hair. Damon didn't look at her at first; he looked back and forth down the hallway before closing the door quietly. She sat there with wide eyes, watching him, as he slowly turned around to face her. He jumped a little when he realized she was awake. "Elena!" He almost forgot to whisper.

"Where am I?"

He rushed to her side, sitting on the bed. "How are you?"

"Where am I?" The question was pointed this time.

"The Salvatore estate. We brought your family here after the fire."

The fire. Now she remembered… or she barely remembered. One minute she was getting ready for bed, the last rays of sunlight still coming through her window, and the next she was running out of her front door, tripping over her nightgown onto the yard. Jeremy held tightly to her arm, stumbling and tripping just as she had. Katherine was right behind them, shrieking as loud as she could.

Flames danced behind the windows in Elena's room, but they were jumping out of the window in Jeremy's room. Elena felt tears falling down her face, but she didn't cry out as Katherine did. Soon she heard shouts in the distance. The Fells were running up the road; noise came out of their mouths, but Elena couldn't understand what they were saying. Katherine waved furiously, "Help! Please help!"

Then there were shouts coming from the other side of her. The Salvatore family, along with their stable boy, came running up the road as well. Each of the brothers had a rifle strapped to his back. Katherine saw Stefan running towards her, but she glared at him. Not now, she thought. He hesitated, falling behind his brother and father. Damon, however, ran straight to Elena. He grabbed her face and tried to get her to focus on his eyes, but she wouldn't focus on anything. "Elena? Elena, are you all right?"

Only one thought came to her mind and she finally looked at him. "Uncle John. Where is Uncle John?"

"Where is John?" Damon called, looking around frantically. "Where's John Gilbert?"

Katherine had to hide a smile. "He must still be inside."

Elena shook her head, and tears continued to spill down her face. Uncle John was not close to her, and they did not share any fondness toward each other, but he was family. Elena had already lost too many loved ones too early, and now her uncle was being burned alive. Damon watched her for a moment. Each tear that fell down her face made his insides hurt. He took her face in his hands once more and kissed her softly on the lips. It wasn't as he had always imagined. It wasn't to show his affection. He couldn't smell her perfume, only the smoke in the air. She didn't run her fingers through his hair. It was nothing more than a promise. In those few seconds he promised that he loved her, that he would do anything for her. Once he pulled away, she looked up at him, a silent question in her eyes.

Without explaining, he turned and ran to the house. The growing crowd called after him, but he didn't falter. Stefan watched in horror as his brother ran into the burning building, and before he knew it, he was running too.

"Stefan!" Katherine yelled. It was a slip up, but no one seemed to notice.

Stefan found Damon standing at a door at the end of the hallway, covering his mouth and nose with his handkerchief. "Damon?"

"The handle is missing."

The door had a hole in the very center. "Did you try to kick it in?"

"I think he did. Look." Stefan looked through the hole. John Gilbert's body was curled up on the floor. A wall to his left was ablaze and smoke-filled the room, slowly filtering out through the hole. The brothers took turns smashing into the door, but it became more difficult the longer they inhaled the smoke. Stefan paused, hunching over to cough. Damon made one final kick where the doorknob used to be. The wood splintered beneath his foot and the door finally swung open. He didn't have time to be relieved now; it looked like his brother was dying and felt like he was too.

He bent down and grabbed John by his underarms. "Stefan," he grunted. "Stefan, come."

They made a slow and clumsy escape, the entire structure of the house groaning under their feet as they went. Damon looked into the rooms as they passed. One looked to be the study, the giant flames that erupted forcing him and Stefan to cling to the wall when they passed. Another, he assumed, was Elena's. The soft pink wallpaper was turning brown from the ground up as the flames licked at the walls. What was left of the champagne colored curtains billowed above the fire. All of her things were caught in the heat and he wished he could save something, but her uncle would have to do.

He practically threw the man on the ground once they made down the front steps of the porch.

Elena shook her head, coming back to the present. Damon still sat before her, worry etched on his face. "You saved my uncle," she sighed, throwing her arms over his shoulders.

He smiled, burying his face in the hair on her shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around her torso. "How are you?" he mumbled into her.

She pulled back, tucking a loose tendril behind her ear, "I'm tired… and my chest hurts, but I will survive."

"You fainted, you know," he smirked. Her cheeks turned red; that was not something she remembered. "One minute, you were standing before me and the next you were as stiff as a board, falling backwards."

She was embarrassed, but it explained the throbbing in her hip. "Mr. Salvatore," she exclaimed. "You didn't catch a lady in need?"

"Please don't be angry with me," he chuckled. "I didn't make it much longer until I, too, was unconscious."

She intertwined his fingers with his, "And my uncle?"

"Sleeping," he answered, looking down at her soft hands. "The doctor says he will recover, with time."

She closed her eyes, pleading with herself not to cry. "And my home?"

He paused, weighing the words carefully. "Gone."

She nodded, the muscles in her face forcing her to frown, but she willed the tears back. "Where will we go, Damon?"

"You are exactly where you belong," he smiled. "With me."

-9-


	10. Good News

**Part I**

**Chapter X**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Elena shifted uncomfortably at the dinner table. The ugly yellow fabric of her dress was too loose on her arms and too thick at her torso. She wriggled in an attempt to relieve the chafed skin under her arms, but it only made it worse. Some of the wives of the Council – that's what they called themselves now, the Founder's Council – had donated dresses they no longer wanted to the poor homeless women of the Gilbert estate. John and Jeremy also wore ill-fitting clothes, borrowed from Stefan and Damon's closets, no doubt. John had spent the last few days frantically trying to salvage whatever was left of the rubble, ensuring that the Gilbert's finances were in order, and making plans to rebuild the main house. He'd done all of this from his bed, only leaving for meals. It made him meaner than before. Jeremy spent his days moping; all the trinkets and memories of his mother and father were gone. They were all gone, every single piece of them. Katherine was using all of her time and energy ensuring Stefan kept a respectable distance in the light of day, and that wasn't easy. As her family went through all of this, Elena could only think about one thing. Why are these clothes so damned uncomfortable?

Katherine placed a hand on her shoulder so she would be still, but kept her eyes on John. "It's as if they have never built anything before!" he exclaimed.

Giuseppe set his drink down. "Well, how long do they think it will take?"

"The man I spoke to couldn't say. I told him he should have it figured out before spring ends."

"Well, you're always welcome in my home."

John smiled, raising his glass. "You've been a savior to us."

Giuseppe tipped his head, "It is nothing." He looked to Elena who was still squirming. "Now, when are you girls planning on getting new dresses?"

"Elena and I have a fitting tomorrow," Katherine said. "Honoria Fell promised entirely new wardrobes at an honest price."

John snorted, finishing his drink. "We'll be lucky if we can even afford a house after she's done with us."

Elena ducked her head apologetically, but Katherine held her ground. "I've offered to pay, John. You can still accept."

"Nonsense. I can't let a lady go bankrupt over some silly dresses."

She felt heat rise in her cheeks and willed herself not to roll her eyes.

Sensing the tension, Giuseppe stood. "May I have your attention, everyone? Yes, good. I'm afraid I forgot to mention the good news to you all. He raised a hand towards Damon, "Stand up, son." Stefan shifted uncomfortably. His father had called his brother a lot of things, but "son" was not usually one of them. Elena looked up to Damon who stood up beside her; he too looked uncomfortable. "Go on, tell them."

Damon looked guiltily down at Elena, but she smiled to comfort him. He hadn't planned on telling her like this. "I-I… I wasn't planning on having it come out like this."

"Spit it out," his father growled.

"I'll be leaving for the war soon," he finally announced. "I'll be joining the Confederacy within the month."

His father let out a delighted chuckle, "Isn't it wonderful?"

Elena's eyes darkened and she tried to mask the horror on her face, only offering an awkward grimace. She felt acid rise up in her throat and stiffened as though she would crawl out of her skin. She'd heard so many stories of men leaving and never returning. How could he leave now? If there was any announcement he needed to make, it was of their engagement, which hadn't happened either. Now he was deserting her. Her chair groaned as she slid it across the floor, "Please excuse me. I'm not feeling well."

Damon looked to his father who only glared defiantly back. The tension was thick in the air. "I should go check on the lady," he sighed. "Excuse me."

He found Elena sitting on the bed in her current room, tears streaming down her face and her skirts billowing around her. She smiled sadly at him. "I'm sorry I left in the midst of your good news."

"You think it's good news?"

"Of course. Soldiers bring great honor to their families back home. It is an honor to have even known your courage."

"You speak as though I am already dead."

"Aren't you?"

He frowned, "I had no choice."

"Aren't you a man?" she seethed, ripping herself from his side. "Don't you have any say in your own life?"

He shook his head, "As much say as you do, my lady."

"How can you leave me here alone? I'll have no one."

"You have your brother."

"There is talk of a betrothal between him and Victoria Donavan. Next year he'll be old enough to enlist as well, and then what?"

"You have Katherine."

"I know her about as well as my uncle, and I barely know him."

"I'll write to you."

She was pacing back and forth now, her tears coming from anger. "My dearest Elena," she mocked. "I had my arm blown off on the battlefield today, but there is no need to fret; I still have my writing hand."

"You're being morbid."

"Good news though," she continued as if she hadn't heard him. "My lieutenant says that the infection will kill me off long before a union soldier can, so at least I'll die with a morsel of dignity."

At that, he stood, grabbing her by the shoulders. She struggled against him, but he was far too strong for her to escape. She was sobbing now. "Elena," he whispered. "Elena, please listen." She was slamming her fists into his chest, the thought of losing him becoming too much to bear. He'd run in to a burning building to save her uncle, so how could he so carelessly throw his own life away? And for nothing? When she'd finally given up, he pulled her into his chest, running his fingers through her curly hair. "I promise to come back. Do you hear me? I won't be gone forever."

-10-


	11. The Party

**Part I**

**Chapter XI**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Damon stood patiently next to his brother at the bottom of their staircase. Unlike Stefan, he was nervous. Elena was still furious with him, but she would soon be forced to face him once again. Even though the sun was still high in the sky, the first Founder's Ball was officially underway. John and Jeremy had left earlier than the rest, but Katherine insisted she "absolutely could not be one of the first at the party," so the Salvatore brothers volunteered to stay behind and escort the ladies. Stefan ran a hand through his hair and readjusted his suit for the hundredth time, but he didn't seem nervous so much as excited. Every opportunity to see Katherine was always cut too short, but now he could parade her around in the light of day – literally. It was not customary to hold an event like this at such an early hour, but the council couldn't allow the unarmed and blissfully ignorant citizens to walk outside without the sunlight to protect them.

The boys straightened at the sound of footsteps on the hardwood floors above them. Katherine came first, almost covered from head to toe in red fabric. Her gloves were made of the same black lace that covered her corset, and her curly brown hair was pulled up high with little, ruby-tipped pins. Suggestive, Elena had commented, but Katherine didn't care. She wanted to evoke that intrigue in men; she wanted them to want her. She wanted them to fear how much they wanted her. What was "suggestive" to Elena was power to Katherine.

Elena was quite the opposite in lustrous purple fabric and white lace. She chose the widest skirt she had in her wardrobe to make sure that Damon could only come so close. That being said, she didn't have much choice; the war had cut off Honoria Fell's usually constant supply of textiles from the north, so she could only deliver a few dresses to Elena and her aunt. The seamstress even showed the two a collection of old curtains, to see if they liked any of the fabric. Katherine wouldn't have it, however, Elena thought it was such a clever notion to make the old and unwanted new again.

When Damon finally caught sight of her, he felt every breath leave his body. Her sleeves bared her shoulders and he berated himself when he found himself thinking about how it would feel to pull the fabric farther down her soft skin. Her curls cascaded freely down her back and bounced with every step she took. She looked straight ahead, trying to look natural and feel her way down the steps. It wasn't a graceful effort. Even as she reached the bottom and Damon took her hand, her eyes remained forward. "You look beautiful," he said quietly.

"Mr. Salvatore," she said, too loud. "If you have taught me anything, it is that I am beautiful. You say it so often, I almost wish I was ugly."

The jab hurt, but his smile never faltered. "The sun would sooner set forever."

She chanced a look at him for only a second, keeping the scowl steady on her face. He looked as handsome as always, his face earnest in spite of her callousness. It bothered her.

"We should go," Katherine said, looping her arm through Stefan's.

The party was already in full swing by the time they arrived. Of course there were the Founders and their families, other members of the council, and some of the more important citizens – doctors, shop owners, and the newspaper editor. It was quite the soiree, but even with the windows open it was too hot. Katherine only felt slightly annoyed; whoever this mystery vampire was, he was becoming a sincerely large nuisance to her. It was too early and too hot for the heavy fabric of an evening gown, but here she was, like a fool. She could only be grateful she didn't sweat.

Elena fanned herself furiously, but it felt as though she were already glistening. The more annoyed she looked, the more she looked like Katherine.

Just as she finished her first glass of champagne, Damon caught her eye. He stood at a respectable distance, but once she even barely acknowledged him, he approached her. "Would you join me for a dance?"

She wanted so badly to say no, but it wasn't polite, and he was her escort, after all. She wanted to let him know that she was still angry with him. She wanted him to reconsider. Instead of saying all of this, she silently offered her hand. It was the waltz, so it should have been easy, but she struggled to keep up. Damon practically carried her throughout the dance, yet she still found herself stumbling against him.

"I will be leaving soon," he said to her dismay. "Will you still hate me then?"

"I don't hate you, of course."

"What if I call you beautiful?" he joked.

"I'm sorry for what I said, but you can't imagine how it hurts me to think of your departure."

"It will bring honor to my family, Elena. It will bring honor to you."

"Honor is meaningless when you're dead."

"If you were a man, I'd call you Falstaff."

"If you had the temperament, I'd call you Hotspur." He smiled gently, and she yearned to bring him closer. She imagined if she could wrap her arms around him tight enough then he would have to stay. "I am not a man, Damon. Nor am I a woman who associates with derelicts and criminals. I believe honor is a virtue, and I believe that you can find it off of the battlefield."

"I don't have that choice."

"What about Stefan?" she asked, growing upset. "He's of age to enlist."

"Father plans for him to become a doctor."

"What of our plans?" Damon's eyes momentarily widened and Elena swallowed down the regret of opening her mouth. The problem was they had never made any plans together. They only had what they individually imagined their futures to be like. The song ended and she took a step back from him, offering a small curtsey.

Another man approached to ask for a dance, and Damon also stepped back. He opened his mouth to say something, but it was too late. Elena was already gone, swept off by Victoria Donavan's brother. She wasn't particularly interested in him, but he kept her from falling, which she was grateful for. She spotted her brother dancing with Victoria across the room. He smiled happily as he led her gracefully in a circle, which Elena was doing herself, yet Victoria seemed uninterested. Her eyes jumped from person to person and she smiled, but they never stuck with Jeremy. This worried Elena; what if their engagement was a mistake?

The party ended without incident, but as the sun began to set, the guests left in groups. Elena had danced with a number of men, and even Damon reappeared, but they could not find the words to speak. When John approached her to ask if she would be willing to leave early, she was all too happy to oblige. He, not Damon, held her arm on the way back. It was an odd act of affection, but she didn't deny it. Instead she rested a hand on his. It was the first time he had really left the house, aside from when he went to assess the debris of the Gilbert estate, and he looked well. The color had returned to his skin and he seemed to breathe with ease, not to mention he had been much kinder to those around him.

Upon their return to the house, Elena offered a quiet and awkward goodnight to Damon before going to her room. She pulled at her corset, begging her handmaid to unlace it as quickly as possible.

When Elena was sure the entire house had long been asleep, she moved from her bed. She took the long, silky dressing gown that was draped over a chair at her bedside and quickly slipped it on. She moved stealthily across the hall, weary of any creaks on the wood floor. Candlelight came from underneath Katherine's door and Elena swore she heard someone giggle, but she didn't investigate further. Light came from under Damon's door as well and she realized the house was much more active at this time of night then she originally thought. She knocked lightly on his door, but didn't wait for him to answer, slipping in and shutting it quickly. Damon looked up at her, startled, from his desk. He had a piece of paper in front of him and a candle close enough so he could read or write, whichever he was doing.

Upon further examination, she realized he had not even changed out of his suit from the ball. His jacket was tossed across his made up bed, and his suspenders hung loosely at the sides of his legs. It was also at that moment that she realized how severely underdressed she was. Damon couldn't help but notice either. The robe she wore helped, but her cotton nightgown was thin, and she made a mental note not to stand in front of the candlelight.

After another moment of awkward silence, Damon finally spoke. "Is something wrong?"

"N-Yes." He arched an eyebrow. "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable earlier. I never should have assumed…"

"Assumed?"

"I shouldn't have assumed," she continued, wishing she had never come, "that you intended for anything to happen between us. I don't want you to feel as though you must carry something on with me out of pity."

"You say you shouldn't assume things about me, but aren't you assuming now?"

She stuttered and her cheeks grew red. "I-I just realized I don't have any claim to you. I shouldn't have pressured you, or questioned your father's decisions."

He moved forward, but stopped short just a foot away from her. "That is where you're wrong, Miss Elena. I don't wish for anyone else to claim me."

"I just... I felt I made a mistake when I mentioned our future earlier."

"You surprised me when you mentioned it, yes."

"Have you ever thought about it?" she asked softly.

"Our future?"

She nodded, and he finally closed the space between them. He wrapped one hand around her waist and brought the other up over her neck and into her hair. She sucked in a nervous breath and when she met his eyes, they had that look he got now and then. His eyes were wide and he looked as if he'd just seen an apparition. That curious blue enveloped her and though he looked lost within her, she felt lost within him. "I cannot see a future if you're not in it."

She could feel adrenaline in her fingertips as she stroked them along his jaw and into his hair. She pulled him closer and closer, until finally they were so close that they looked like one big, fat man. She giggled at the thought and tried to brush it away, but she realized Damon was laughing too. They were laughing and kissing and Elena felt a true happiness blossoming in her chest that she had not felt since her parents had died.

She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him to the bed. She wasn't sure what she was doing, but she wasn't worried about it anymore. She didn't worry about looking foolish because Damon couldn't see her that way. She couldn't see him that way either. She pulled at the buttons on his shirt one by one, leaving a kiss on his neck and then his chest, as she went lower. They sat up together and she pulled his shirt off mid-kiss, tossing it to the floor, but when he lay back down, she gasped. When Damon looked to inspect, he'd realized what a mistake he had made. It'd been so long since his last confrontation with his father – the one where he 'agreed' that joining the war was a good idea – that he'd forgotten the bruises. They were yellowing now, only remaining purplish towards the middle. They were healing and he didn't even feel them anymore. One bruise covered a large portion of his chest and abdomen, but Elena was covering the one on his side and he was lying on top of the one on his back. "Damon?"

"You mustn't tell."

-11-


	12. The Soldier

**Part I**

**Chapter XII**

**1864**

**Frederick County, Virginia**

Damon kept his head down, watching his feet slowly sink into the muddy ground with every step he took. He imagined what this land must have looked like before an army marched across it. It was a wide-open area with trees on either side. Occasionally, he would spot a patch of faded green grass that persevered, but mostly, there was mud. As more and more mud coated the hems of his pants, they grew heavier. The men he traveled with - a group of maybe 100 new recruits like himself - were ragtag, to say the least. Damon wore the full uniform his father had purchased for him, but he felt silly when he examined those around him. Most of them were from small towns like Mystic Falls, but they couldn't have been more than the sons of farmers. They sported bits and pieces of the uniform, but it was likely they just couldn't afford the entire thing. The boy next to him was young - too young, he thought. He couldn't have been much older than Stefan. His face was dirty and he only sported the trousers and a cap.

Damon knew his group must be getting close to the camp when he could smell food wafting over the hill. It wasn't before long the smell of something else caught his attention. His counterparts noticed too as their noses rose in the air and groans of disgust filled his ears. The man who led them laughed, "It's the sinks," he called back. "You won't get used to it."

Damon ducked his head to hide his disgust. This is where I'm supposed to be, he repeated internally. I am doing this for honor, glory, and adventure. I am doing this for my family. I am doing this for Elena. But the words were a little hollow.

The sounds of camp caught his attention, and he spotted it just as they went over the hill. It was bigger than he imagined. There were thousands of little white tents for as far as the eye could see. Groups of men stood in lines upon lines and drilled, repeating the same moves over and over.

Damon readjusted the bag on his shoulder and stood silently as he received orders. He reported directly to the man in charge of him. The officer was a compact man, but strong. A long scar stretched up from his neck and onto his face, but he wore it as if it were a medal. "I prefer you address me as Elijah," he said. "My father's name didn't mean anything when I got this scar, and it won't mean anything when this war finally catches up to me." The crowd of men shifted uncomfortably and Damon's thoughts wandered to his own father. Now that he'd been dumped here, he and Stefan could live happily ever after. Or not. Damon was coming back. He wasn't that easy to get rid of. "You," Elijah continued, "will go by your last names until you're important enough to say otherwise."

Damon received his pack and an old weapon that looked like it would fall apart before it could shoot. He struggled to set up his little white tent, frustrated heat rising in his cheeks. He looked up, embarrassed, to find a set of eyes watching him. A gangly man, sitting on a crate about five feet from him, made no effort to hide his amusement. "I take it you're not a builder?" the man laughed.

Damon sat back, letting the cloth fall to the ground. "Not in my whole life."

"You buttoned it wrong," he explained, taking a bite out of the hard bread in his hand, "and you'll want to lay that mat down first if you want to keep from getting wet."

Damon grabbed the oilcloth mat from his pack and inspected it. He'd assumed it was just to keep him warm. "Does this mean you're a builder?" he asked the man.

"I've been at this for more than two years," he shrugged. "If I couldn't build a tent by now, I'd look a fool."

Damon nodded, standing back to evaluate his work. It wasn't as good as the ones around him, but it would have to do. "Thank you," he said.

"Of course… I'm Alaric Saltzman, but everyone calls me Ric."

"You're important enough to go by Ric?"

"Certainly not important enough, but I've been here so long they'd call me Mary Beth if I asked." They laughed and Ric lifted his hat to brush back his greasy hair. When Damon really looked at him, he realized that his hair wasn't the only dirty thing about him. His face was streaked with brown and what looked like blood… or maybe food. He wore a Confederate cap, but his trousers were dark blue. There wasn't an inch of his clothes or skin that was the right color. His arms were covered in small bruises and his hands were calloused. "What about you?"

"Damon," and then he paused when he realized that he'd given the wrong name. "Salvatore. Damon Salvatore."

From then on, that was his life. With the winter months approaching, the company was no longer mobile. Food rations were skimpy, but they were bigger than when they were on the move, according to Ric. In the beginning, Damon would repeat the same five words to himself when he felt restless. Honor. Glory. Adventure. Family. Elena. Once he had been at camp for three weeks and hadn't even heard news of impending battle, it all seemed very… boring. He woke up when he was told, he cleaned when he was told, he ate when he was told, and then he drilled when he was told. He repeated the same monotonous movements over and over until he was so in harmony with the men around him that he could have offered a handkerchief before they sneezed – if he still carried one – which he didn't.

The men around him were all so vulgar and he felt himself becoming vulgar too. Things he had never dreamed of uttering before just slipped out of his mouth without a thought. He listened to the men as they sat around the fire and gawked in admiration as they told stories of walking through friendly territory in the south. In the big cities, they spoke of the women who lurked around every corner. "They'll make you think that they're stealing your heart when they're really just wrapping those pretty little fingers around your coin purse," one said. "Watch out for an adventuress with a pretty face," another warned. "They're angels at night and devils in the morning… or perhaps the other way around if you prefer." It wasn't long before comments like that didn't make him blush anymore, although he could never actually picture having any of these adventures himself. Not with a lady waiting on him back home. That said, most of these men did have ladies as well, but maybe they just didn't care. Sometimes they would pass their women's pictures around just to see whose was the prettiest. Damon knew if he had a picture of Elena, he would win.

She occupied his thoughts at every second. When he stood guard late at night he imagined her sitting with him, her head on his shoulder. She'd be wearing that dress that he loved, the one that was long gone in the fire, the lavender one with puffed sleeves that fell off her shoulders. She would smell like flowers… or maybe honey. She would smell like anything that wasn't what he smelled at that moment, he decided. When he marched in a line he imagined her marching around next to him, laughing as though it were all just a silly game. When they carried off all the bodies of men who had died of sickness, she walked alongside them and mourned for all of them even though they were unknown to her.

When a package from home finally arrived, he could hardly contain his excitement. He took it from the courier carefully, but when he realized that the men around him were excited as he, there was no more room for control. He found a place as private as possible and wrenched it open. It was a small box filled with a few letters and some little trinkets, but a small piece of paper lay on top of it all.

Damon, your brother and I gathered some things for you. – Elena

He ran his fingers over her perfect, elongated handwriting and he felt his heart grow heavy. Among the letters from her and Stefan – none from his father, he noticed – there was a Mystic Falls newspaper, a copy of The Woman in White, clean socks, stationery, and a bounty of glorious food. He dug his hand into a little sack of candy and he thought he would cry. He could picture her handpicking the apples that she baked into three little pies. A bottle of whiskey, very expensive whiskey, glared at him from the corner of the wooden box. It wasn't easy to get nowadays, not in the north, but especially not in the south. His brother may have included a note, but this had Elena written all over it.

He grabbed the whiskey and her letter, taking a sip from the bottle before tearing it open. He unfolded the piece of paper within and something smaller fell out; a picture, he realized. Elena looked back at him, frozen in her beauty on small piece of paper. A tiny smirk tugged at her lips, but she looked so serene. So far away, he thought. He blamed it on the whiskey, but his eyes burned until he couldn't bear to look at it anymore.

He turned his attention to the letter, but it didn't last long when Ric came and snatched the bottle from his hands. "Lucky dog," he smirked, taking a swig.

"You didn't receive anything?"

"A cake from my gal back home," he shrugged. "We can't afford anything else."

"It's my first package. I'm sure she just wanted to it to be special."

"She?"

"She."

Damon offered her picture for him to see and Ric responded with a long whistle. "Lucky dog," he repeated.

-12-


	13. The Attack

**Part I**   


**Chapter XIII**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Just as the town of Mystic Falls started to shed its blanket of paranoia, the chill of winter penetrated the innermost area of Virginia. It was much colder than one would expect for that time of year. The citizens had only just started leaving their homes and lingering out in town after sunset again, when the weather would no longer let them. Katherine peeked at Stefan in the reflection of her floor-length mirror, as she took the braids out of her hair. He wasn't looking at her, but out of the long window of her bedroom. Every few seconds, the glass in front of his face would fog up from his breath. "I think it's snowing," he murmured.

"Good," she said. "Whatever will keep people off the streets at night."

"You don't care about these people," he smirked, looking back at her.

She sauntered over to him, shrugging her robe off of her shoulders and onto the floor. "You're right. I don't care about anyone outside of this house."

"So, you admit you care about someone?"

She wrapped her arms around him and gently ran her fingers across his chest. "Don't tell on me," she simpered. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into him, kissing her roughly, but she only indulged him for a moment. To his dismay, she used both hands to push him away, but held him by the straps of his suspenders. "How is your father doing, by the way?"

"My father?" He took a moment to catch his breath, trying to focus. Of all the things he was thinking of, his father hadn't been one of them.

"He has a troupe of strangers living in his home, and now his first-born son is off to war."

"You and I both know he isn't concerned about either of those things."

"As for the vampires… they suspect one set the fire."

"An interesting theory," she said. There was nothing inside of her that made her want to tell Stefan the truth about it.

"Now, they only have their wooden stakes to protect them."

She was soothed by that thought, and decided to change the subject, grabbing Stefan' by the sides and shoving his back against the window behind him. Little bumps formed on his skin from the cold. She pulled his shirt open and kissed him gently, starting at his midsection and working her way up his chest and onto his neck. When she looked up, her reflection was clouded in the window by the condensation surrounding him. He ran his hands over her sides and back hungrily, but she could feel him brace when she gently ran her tongue over a smooth spot of skin on his neck. He didn't make a sound when she clamped down on him, and she gripped him tightly as the warm liquid flowed quickly into her mouth.

Stefan raised a hand to her arm, and she knew he was growing uncomfortable, but she needed just a second longer. It would have been a minute if an unusual noise hadn't caught her attention. She smacked an unintentionally rough hand over Stefan's mouth and shoved him into the wall next to her, listening intently. He didn't make a noise, holding a hand to his neck and sliding down the wall weakly.

She heard the noise again and this time she realized it was a moan, or perhaps a groan, but it was just loud enough for her to pick up on. Her glare flew back to the window when she heard a stick break. "Stay here," she commanded, opening the latches on the window. He couldn't even look up to see her jump from the window. Her bare feet landed silently on the ground below and that was when she picked up on a very, very faint heartbeat.

Around the corner, Jeremy's almost lifeless body lay beneath a hooded figure. A territorial growl rose in her throat and she felt her sharp teeth slide out of her gums, but the figure ran before she even realized what was happening. She debated running after it until she realized that the very, very faint heartbeat was gone. "Jeremy?" she whispered. Panic erupted in her stomach and she fell to her knees beside him. No pulse, no heartbeat, no breath. He was nothing but a shell. She reached for his hand, and breathed a sigh of relief when she realized her ring was still wrapped around his finger. In his other hand was a love note for the lady Victoria. "Idiot," she sighed.

"Katherine?" Stefan called from the window. "Is everything well?"

She rolled her eyes and took Jeremy into her arms in true damsel-in-distress fashion. "Come open the front door," she called back.

When they met at the door, she willed him with her eyes not to make a sound. "Go get Elena," she ordered before taking him to his room.

She ripped Jeremy's boots from his feet and dropped them to the floor and roughly put him in his bed, annoyance rising up her spine with every second she spent near him.

Elena entered the room sleepily, followed by Stefan. "Katherine?" she yawned. "What's wrong?"

"Sit," she ordered. "You are very awake, but you're going to stay calm."

Elena's back stiffened and her eyes widened, nodding in agreement.

"You're mind is open to me and you'll stay calm no matter what happens next. You will not be scared."

She turned her attention to Stefan then. "I'm sorry I have to do this."

"Do what?"

But it was already too late and she was too focused on what she was doing to pay attention to him any longer. "You never saw me this evening. You were reading in your room when you heard a noise outside and went to investigate. You opened the front door and stepped outside for only a moment before a vampire attacked you. You couldn't see his face, but you were able to get inside before he killed you. He wore a hooded cloak."

His head bobbed up and down absent-mindedly, never breaking eye contact with her. "I thought someone was trying to break in. I was just trying to protect my home."

She smiled sympathetically before saying sorry once more and ripping into his neck more ferociously than before. Her intent was more about tearing at the skin then it was to take his blood, but she needed to be careful if she wanted him to heal. "Now go alert your father. Quickly. You're very afraid."

His eyes widened and he gasped, covering his wound with hand. He ran out quickly, but weakly, and Katherine quietly shut the door behind him.

"I don't understand," Elena said, confused, but serene nonetheless.

Katherine sat next to Jeremy and took a deep breath before explaining exactly what was happening. Elena sat quietly as she whispered to her, but it wasn't long before they heard a panicked shout from down the hall. There were footsteps and the light of candles that flashed beneath the doors. Katherine waited patiently before she continued. She explained about vampires and how she was one. She told Elena all about how she survived. Most importantly, she compelled the girl not to say anything.

"If you are a vampire," Elena asked, a sad look growing in her eyes. "Was my mother a vampire as well?"

"I am a very old descendent of your mother's, Elena. I compelled myself into her memories long ago."

"Why?"

"Blood is important to me, Elena. In more ways than one. I've followed my bloodline for generations, ensuring that they live and that they produce an heir."

"I still don't understand. Why do you care?"

She gritted her teeth, trying to stay patient. "I had a daughter when I was very young and unmarried." Elena shifted uncomfortably at that, signaling the possibility that she was more uncomfortable with bearing a child out of wedlock than she was with her 'aunt' being a centuries-old murderer. "My father took her so quickly that I never even held her."

"But you found her?"

"I never even looked for her."

"How, then?"

"I went back home many years after my father had thrown me out. I planned on torturing him until he told me where he had taken her, but he was so old by then that he thought I was a ghost. He was so frightened that he told me where he thought she would be."

"Did you find her?"

"No," she frowned. "I found her daughter who informed me that she had disappeared long ago, so I stayed with her instead."

"Now you plan on doing that forever?"

"Of course I like to check in. If all of you have offered me anything over the centuries, it's been shelter." Elena looked at her blankly and she sighed. "When I see my descendents, I see my mother. I see my daughter. I know they'll be here for me if I need them." Once again, they heard men yelling outside and a gunshot rang out. "Family is what's most important, Elena. Do you understand? That's what your ring is for. It will protect you."

"Is that why I'm not upset that Jeremy is dead?"

Katherine nodded earnestly before looking her dead in the eye. "You mustn't tell anyone. You may hate me, you may think I am a monster, but you will never utter it to anyone."

Elena blinked, "I don't hate you."

Katherine's eyes turned red and she felt the veins below swelled, "Do you fear me?"

"You told me not to."

-13-


	14. The Letter

**Part I**

**Chapter XIV**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Elena watched out the window patiently as the sun began to rise in the sky. She hadn't moved even a little since Katherine had left her side in the small hours of the morning. Slowly, streaks of light crept down the wall until the entire room was filled with the fresh light of day. Her hands held her brother's, who still lay unconscious before her. All through the night, she feared that Mr. Salvatore or her uncle would come bursting through the door and would discover Jeremy's body. Each time she heard footsteps go through the front door or a gunshot ring out in the air, she prayed for Jeremy to wake. Each time her prayers went unanswered.

She felt distant from herself. There was a disconnect between her thoughts and emotions. Everything Katherine had told her should have upset her, but she didn't feel that way. She felt calm. What do you know? she asked herself. My name is Elena Gilbert. I am human. My brother is Jeremy. He is dead. Temporarily. My aunt, no my relative, Katherine, is a vampire. She murders people. She protects me. She protected my mother. I don't understand what a vampire is. They feed on humans. My family wants them dead. I don't know if I want them dead. I have to protect Katherine's secret. I mustn't tell.

She thought of someone else who said that to her once and her mind drifted to thoughts of Damon. Images of the yellowed bruises and his embarrassment on the night of the Founder's Ball flashed before her mind. She kicked herself for even letting on she had noticed. It was so impolite and he had been so humiliated, pushing her to the side so he could button his shirt once again. Elena apologized until she couldn't think of any other ways to say 'sorry', but he couldn't even look her in the face.

The few times she saw him afterwards, she pretended it had never happened and their affection continued as before. Even so, she still wondered about it. Her first thought was that he got them from roughhousing with his brother, or maybe he'd been working in the stables. She hadn't given them a second thought until his panicked eyes met hers and he said those three words: "You mustn't tell." That was when she knew that Mr. Salvatore was not the man she had thought. It was the only thing that made sense to her. Every time she saw him now, she couldn't stand to look at his ugly face.

She reached into the pocket of her robe and grabbed the piece of paper in it. The paper was worn and crinkled from being folded and refolded, but she opened it once again. It looked like Damon had scratched his words quickly.

Elena,

I cannot tell if it is the cold weather or that you are gone from my sight, but everything is bleak now. I hope my letter will make you smile as greatly as yours made me. Thank you so much for everything you sent me. Every little piece of you was more than I deserve. My companions might be more in love with you than I am after I shared some of your gifts. I hope you don't mind, but every little thing that will lift up their spirits helps. In my next package, could you send a sewing kit? All of my clothes are falling apart already. Otherwise, everything is well. We are fed almost as well as we are in our own homes. The nights are a little cold, but we're given a bounty of blankets to stack on top of ourselves. All is well, my love. I hope you will tell me the same. I don't have time to write any further. They drill us until my muscles can't remember how to do anything else, but I still must go back. Thank you again, Elena, my sunshine. Please write soon.

All my love,

Damon Salvatore

When the door opened behind her, she was startled. She shoved the paper back in her pocket quickly as she spun around. Giuseppe Salvatore stared at her with his beady eyes and her thoughts immediately turned to Jeremy. She raised a finger to her lips and held a hand up so he wouldn't come any closer. "He was up all night," she whispered. "He had a fever until early this morning."

"Why didn't you call for a doctor?" he whispered back, worried.

"I heard shots and screams. I didn't want to leave the room."

He nodded. "I'm sorry. There was a… burglar."

She pretended to believe every word. "I'm glad I didn't leave then."

"Yes, it was safer for you in here."

"Did you catch him?" Elena asked.

"Who?"

"The burglar?"

"Oh! No, he got away."

"Oh, dear."

"Don't fret. He'll be caught soon enough now that we know of him." His eyes turned to Jeremy once again and Elena tried to position herself in his line of sight. "Should I call a doctor for him now?"

"His fever is gone. He's just resting."

"You're sure?"

"I think the cold just got him."

He sighed. "If you say so." There was a moment between them where they only could stare at each other. The silence reflected on the awkward encounter as a whole, but Elena wasn't thinking of that at all. Rage burned in her stomach and she tried to suck it down, but she still felt her cheeks growing red. "Has Damon written?"

"Of course." You would know that if you had written him yourself, you evil lit-

"I assume he hasn't seen battle then?"

"Not yet."

He didn't say another word to her before leaving, and her face turned up in disgust. It was bewildering to think that man and Damon could be related. She sat back down as she was and took the letter from her pocket again, folding it carefully. It was then that Jeremy sat up with a start, lifting his hand to his neck. The wound was gone and Katherine and Elena had long since changed him out of his bloody clothes, but he could still feel a burning pinch on the spot where he was bitten. "Elena?" he gasped.

A smile erupted over her face and she dove for him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. "Thank God," she breathed.

"What happened?"

She hesitated, remembering what her aunt had said. "Katherine will tell you."

-14-


	15. Fog

**Part I**

**Chapter XV**

**1864**

**Frederick County, Virginia**

Damon kept his eyes fixed on the ground as he and thousands of others from mixed companies marched. It was late at night and he had been walking for four hours straight. He had blisters forming on his heels and his muscles begged him to pause for just a moment, but he kept moving still. He had been static for so long that he was happy to be finally moving. As always, he found himself trying to find balance on the slippery mud the men left behind. The echoes of footsteps rang all around him, but he couldn't see far past the fog.

"Isn't that a bad omen?" Damon wondered out loud.

"What?" Ric replied, his breathing loud.

"The fog."

"What about it?"

"I don't know… the fog… the crows… It's unsettling."

"You should be grateful for the cover," Ric huffed. "The Yanks will never see us coming."

Damon nodded, his eyes returning to the ground, but he was not comforted. They were only marching this late in order to sneak up on their enemies, and that gave them the advantage. Still, he had a feeling and it wasn't a good one.

"You're just nervous about your first fight, kid."

"How long do you think we have to march?"

Ric shrugged, "This is the farthest I've ever gone before. It won't be long, now."

There was too much fog to clearly see what lay in the distance, but if they were drawing near, then the officers would have put them in order. Now, the men walked where they felt comfortable and talked freely if they weren't too tired. "Maybe Elijah knows."

Disobedient to his own burning muscles, Damon picked up his pace in order to catch up with Elijah who rode on a horse far ahead of them. He heard Ric groan, but Damon knew he was following from the sound of his canteen clanking against his belt buckle. Elijah looked elegant on his horse, especially in comparison to the haggard men surrounding him. Even after years of war and hours of endless travel, Elijah held himself with an air of confidence and sophistication. Damon hoped he would look like that at the end of his service, not like these men around him who looked like they were dead long before they actually died. "Elijah."

"Yes?"

"How much longer is it going to be?"

Elijah chuckled, "We'll be getting into formation any time now. Do you think you can make it?"

"Of course. I was just curious."

"I wonder about you sometimes, Salvatore."

"What is there to wonder at?"

"Look around you. You stick out."

Damon frowned. He was just beginning to think he was starting to look like a real soldier. His face was often unshaven and there were bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep. He was often sick from the cold and his cheeks were sinking in because there wasn't enough food to go around. He soon stopped wearing his entire uniform because it was too heavy, but everything was covered in dirt, anyway. His hair was even shaggier than usual and often fell in front of his eyes. How could he stick out? He felt sunken in. "What do you mean?"

"Don't take offense, private. I don't mean it like that." There was a moment of silence, and Elijah let out an annoyed sigh. "Boys with names and fathers like yours don't end up among men like these. Your father is well connected, so it's odd that you ended up here."

"Where should I have ended up?"

"I was a messenger when I first came here, thanks to my father."

"Are you saying I should have been a messenger?"

"I'm not saying anything."

"He's saying it's strange because you shouldn't be up on the front lines with the likes of me," Ric grunted.

An awkward silence came over the three men as Damon pondered their words. It had never even occurred to him that his father had any control over where he was. His father couldn't have known either, of course.

Elijah straightened and cleared his throat, "I think it's time to get in formation."

When Damon looked ahead he realized that people were calling back to each other and tightening into their lines. Elijah wasn't looking at them anymore, but ahead. He dug the backs of his heels into his horse's side, and picked up speed, leaving the two men behind. There was no more time to talk. The fog had thickened even more, and Damon tried to remember that that was a good thing. Slowly, all of the footsteps began to fall into the same step and the clamor of a thousand men was the only thing that filled his ears. His heartbeat quickened and he felt a nervousness that was so rare for him before. He felt it when he first arrived at the camp, again when he spent his first night alone, again when he left for this march so many hours ago, and now when the actual battle was pending. For so long, he'd been in the same camp doing the same thing that he had wished for this excitement. Now he wanted nothing of the sort. His eyes shifted from the faces he could partially see around him, hoping he would see the same anxiety on someone else's face. He couldn't even see under the dirt on one man, but the others looked calm. When he thought about it, he realized he was making a conscious effort to look calm too.

Honor. Glory. Adventure. Family. Elena.

The words dominated his thoughts, but he paused on the last one. Elena would be asleep by now. She would be warm under the same thick quilts he'd slept under since he was young. There was no doubt she was safe under the protection of her brother and uncle. The thought of her being at peace calmed him.

He held his weapon tighter to his chest and took a deep breath. "All I've done for the past month is drill, and now I don't know what to do."

Ric smacked a hand on his shoulder, falling out of step with the others for a moment. "Shoot when you see blue."

-15-


	16. Rose

**Part I**

**Chapter XVI**

**1864**

**Frederick County, Virginia**

Damon Salvatore was acutely aware of the regret that he carried around for the majority of his life. A hundred times since he had arrived at camp, he had wished upon everything and anything that he could go back on his word to join the army. He had closed his eyes every night in his little tent as he tried to swaddle himself in his rough blankets and prayed that he would wake up in his own, warm bed, or at the very least, dry. He silently chided himself every time he had to force down the hard bread - Ric called it 'tack' - he was given for every meal. He yearned to retrace every one of his steps backward through time until he was facing Elena, and when she begged him to stay, he would.

There were things he regretted before the army that would still come back to overtake his thoughts, as well. He hated himself every day when he thought of his father. Although he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment that Giuseppe Salvatore declared his very existence a nuisance, he still regretted it, whatever it was. In the same thought, he hated his own disdain for himself. He could never understand where this fear and loathing inside him came from.

Damon had lamented many of his decisions in his life, but he would never say he regretted Fell's Church. His time at camp was spent in a constant, surreal state where nothing ever changed, so when he was woken by the gruff voice of a man and strong hands trying to pull him out of his tent by the feet, he feared the worst. He was already praying that whoever it was would kill him quickly, when his face finally met Ric's as he wrestled him onto the dirt.

"Bastard!" Damon choked, falling backwards. He'd been so scared it didn't even occur to him that his father would have his mouth sewn shut if he heard him using that kind of language.

"Come on, kid," Ric said, ignoring the remark, "ain't got the time to throw fits, now." Damon rubbed the side of his arm, which was the only thing that seemed to be injured in the scuffle, but it only felt like a bruise. Ric rolled his eyes at the gesture and pulled him to his feet by the bruised spot. "I don't listen to anyone whine unless it's because someone's corset is too tight and they're just dying to get out of it. Now, grab that bottle of whiskey you're hiding and let's go."

"Where are we going?" Damon asked as Ric began to pull him in to the dark line of the trees that bordered the camp.

"Shh," Ric insisted.

Damon did as he was told and lowered his head to the ground to make sure he didn't fall. The liquor sloshed around inside its glass and he was sad to have to use it. He'd been drinking a little every night to help him fall asleep, but if he knew Ric, that wasn't going to be an option anymore. Once they were a safe distance from the camp, Ric slowed and Damon realized he heard voices. He grabbed for his pistol, but Ric only relaxed. "You ever been out this late?" he asked.

Damon shook his head no. "Where would I go? Nothing is open."

Ric laughed, a little too loud, and shook his head, but before Damon could repeat his question, they were approaching a group of men standing by a tree. It took a moment, but Damon realized that all of them were from camp too. "You get the horses?" Ric asked.

A short man who was eyeing the bottle in Damon's hand nodded. "Tied 'em up on the outskirts o' the woods."

Damon squared his shoulders as he prepared to ask one more time, agreeing with himself that if he didn't receive an answer, then he would stop asking. "Where are we going?"

"Fell's Church," Ric explained, "is a town just a few miles away from here. I try to go there at least once every time we stay in Frederick's."

"What do you go there for?"

Damon looked around gingerly as all of the men began to snicker. Have they brought me here as a trick? He thought. "I don't understand," he said out loud.

"Don't worry, kid." Ric chuckled. "Once you see it, you won't need to understand."

Ric was right. At first, he was terrified the men had brought him along just to leave him and make a fool out of him in front of the officers. The town was quiet, though dimly lit by burning lanterns and candles that occasionally appeared in people's windows. It wasn't until they approached a tall building in the square that he realized what was happening. On the journey there, he had shared the bottle with Ric, and with the other man who had spoken to him, Luca. He could feel the liquid floating around in his head and he couldn't tell if his brain was buoyantly floating or sinking like a stone. They stumbled up the steps of the establishment and the scent of tobacco and perfume filled his nose.

It was a saloon. Just like the ones he had heard about from the men when they told their stories around the campfire. To his left, a long bar ran along the wall, decorated with shiny bottles and colorful ladies to match. Men sat at tables and stood around, but no one turned to look as they entered. Perhaps they didn't notice because the sound of the piano coming from the corner mixed with the loud chatter of drunken men and laughing women were too loud. Maybe they didn't care. They all looked like they were having too much fun.

Damon took a final pull from his bottle and sat it on the table to his right. He followed the others to a table and tried to focus on his surroundings. He was a little angry with Ric for not telling him what was happening; he never would have drunk so much if he thought he was going to want to remember what was happening. Most of the other men wandered off in search of drinks and other pastimes, but Ric leaned back in his seat and smiled. "Sorry we couldn't bring you earlier," he half-shouted. "I figured we'd have gone on a march by now and it's usually better to get that out of the way first."

"Why's that?" Damon half-slurred back.

"It's rough, kid. Let's leave it at that."

Damon nodded.

A few moments later, a pair of long, skinny arms slithered around Ric's neck and the woman attached appeared from behind him. "Well if it isn't my favorite customer?" she giggled, kissing him on the cheek.

Damon blushed. He'd seen plenty of men drink a little too much and get handsy with some young little thing who would giggle and smack his hand away. He always made sure he took the lady's hand and removed her from the situation, and perhaps laugh about it later when he recounted the episode to his brother, or even Elena. He had never seen a woman act so forward before. His eyes widened when she slid a hand down Ric's chest and onto his inner thigh, "I guess you've missed me as much as I've missed you?" He'd never even seen a man act this forward before.

Ric laughed a husky little laugh Damon had never heard before as he pulled her onto his lap. "You can't possibly know how much I've missed you, Meredith. Not yet, at least." The two laughed and Damon realized he had never been so uncomfortable in his life. He was suddenly very aware of how straight he was sitting, but when he tried to slouch, as he had grown accustomed to around these men, he felt ridiculous. Then there were his hands, which fiddled and twitched in his lap, then on the table, and then on his lap again. He looked straight ahead and willed himself to stop blushing.

"Who's this?" Meredith asked.

"This," Ric said, with a smirk on his face that made Damon fearful, "is a very good friend of mine. He's new, see, and the boys and I just wanted to treat him to a night out for being such a good soldier."

Damon looked around, but there was no "boys" to be seen. "Well, how well are you wanting to treat him?" Meredith smiled. Unlike Ric, earnestness lay on her lips and in her eyes.

Ric leaned in closer to her again and said something that Damon couldn't hear. Meredith just nodded and gave him a small kiss on the lips before hopping up and parading off into some unseen corner.

"She seems nice," Damon said tightly.

Before Ric could respond, they were joined once again by the other men, each with a drink in one hand, and a few with a girl in the other. They played around, howling and guzzling down the golden liquid in their glasses. Occasionally, they would send off a girl to get another, but she always came back quickly. Damon tried to laugh and join in, but Meredith had been gone for a long time now. He could feel Ric smirking at him, but he couldn't bring himself to meet his eyes.

Finally, when Damon feared he would grow sore from fidgeting so much, Meredith returned empty-handed. She took her original seat - Ric's lap - and acted as if nothing had happened. Damon calmed down at once. He wasn't sure what he was nervous about – or perhaps he was absolutely sure, because it wasn't soon after that another woman appeared with a full glass in hand and her eyes locked on his. The sight of her scared him even more. She was tall, almost as tall as he was, with long hair. Her skin was olive-toned and her hair was so light it almost matched. He couldn't help but wonder if she spent long periods of time out in the sun when she wasn't… working. There was no doubt that she was one of the prettiest women in the room, but the gleam in her green eyes made her a monster.

"I saw your glass getting empty," she said simply, putting the full one down on the table.

Damon looked to Ric for instruction, having never been in this sort of social situation before, but Ric only continued to look at him as he had been. "Thank you," he finally stammered.

The entire table was watching him now, waiting for him to say something – anything - to the girl before him.

"He's shy," Ric said to her. "Probably just used to charming the ladies with his looks, not his greenbacks."

Damon blushed furiously this time, but was relieved to see a way out. "I don't have any money," he said, honestly. "Sorry, I won't waste your time."

"Oh, don't worry about all that," the girl said, scooting closer to him. "Your friends have been very generous… to both of us."

Damon's stomach turned and he couldn't tell if it was from her words or her perfume. "Oh, no. No need." He struggled to find words. "I'm all set. Thank you."

The table laughed. One man, louder than the others, said, "All set? You've been away more than a month! You got that girl o' yers sneaking into camp or what?"

The table roared with laughter and Damon wanted to be anywhere else – even in the middle of a battle. He was so embarrassed he couldn't even find room to be angry.

"It's fine," Ric sighed. "We've all got a girl somewhere, kid. They don't need to know about what goes on when we're away."

Damon took the drink and gulped it down, shoving both of his empty glasses at the girl. He frowned apologetically once he realized his rudeness. "Could I please have another?" he said guiltily.

She only smiled and took both of the glasses, "I'll fill both."

Once she was gone, Ric leaned in and smacked him on the head. "'S the matter with you?"

Damon shrugged dejectedly.

"Those manners ain't gonna do you good here, son," one of the older men said.

"You don't gotta feel guilty," another added. "They're just doing their job!"

"It's not that," he sighed, frustrated. "I-"

He had been so concerned with finding a good excuse that he hadn't noticed Meredith whispering into Ric's ear again. Just as she had finished her thought, he slammed his fist on the table and crowed to the air, throwing her from his lap and stomping his foot. "Boys, I just figured it out!" The entire room was listening now, not just the table, and Damon leaned his elbows onto his knees and put his face in his hands. He was caught.

Finally, in one fell swoop, Ric delivered the blow. "We got ourselves a cherry!" he shouted. All at once the crowd of people went into an uproar and he could feel a group of men rush on him. He wished again that he could be someplace else, and it was only then that his wish came true.

The cheering men grabbed his limbs and dragged him up the staircase and down the hall. It felt as though he had been thrown into a tornado and it spit him back out in a quiet little room. He sat up on the bed once the mystery men who had brought him left, and evaluated his surroundings. The room was dimly lit, but he could make out the pink curtains that hung over the windows and the matching paint on the walls. It was a simple room with just a bed, a small table, and a chest, but it was cozy, he thought.

Just as he was about to snoop, the door opened. The woman who went to fetch his drinks entered, the two promised beers in hand. "I'm sorry about that," she smiled. "I take it you're one who likes to keep these things quiet?"

"I don't prefer these things at all," he muttered taking one beer and gulping it down quickly. He could feel himself becoming quite drunk, but he was desperate to wash away the embarrassment. She waited patiently for him to finish before trading him glasses. When he was done, she set them both on the table.

"They're only teasing," she said, sitting next to him.

"Hilarious," he grunted. He stood and snatched a silver cross from a little bowl of jewelry on the table, swinging it from his fingers. "So," he slurred, dramatically falling across the bed. "Is this where you deflower me?" If only he had been this relaxed earlier.

"Is that what you want?"

He sat up awkwardly and shrugged. She paused for a moment before leaning in slowly, kissing him softly on the lips. He sat still for a moment but something about someone else touching his lips was electrifying. It was only another moment before he clumsily smashed his face to hers. Over the weeks and weeks he had been away, the pain of separation from Elena had dulled significantly. He still thought of her, still dreamed of the day he returned, but she didn't haunt him every moment as she used to. It wasn't until that moment that whatever place she took up inside of him was stripped away and something like heavy boulders tumbled down into that spot inside of him and it hurt so much he couldn't breathe. The pain of having her being ripped out from inside of his heart was much worse than the pain of separation.

He ran his hands up the girl's leg and then her abdomen, all the way up to her face, where he held it and pulled away. "What's your name?" he breathed.

She opened her eyes, but stayed where she was. "Rose."

"Rose," he repeated. "I can't do this."

She smiled and ran a hand through his hair. "I know."

"I can't be anymore without her than I already am… I know it doesn't make sense, b-"

"It's all right," she reassured. "Does she know?"

"What?"

"How you feel?"

"I think so."

She rolled her eyes.

"That isn't good enough?"

She scoffed, "Anyone can 'think so', but not everyone can know."

"You don't think she knows?" he said, confused.

"I think that you're not sure."

He frowned, "Maybe not."

"So make yourself sure. Make her sure. Tell her. When you get back, tell her that you can't be without her."

"What about everyone downstairs?"

"Let them think what they want," she said, kissing him on the cheek. He leaned back to his back was against the headboard. He focused hard on the wall in front of him in an attempt to get it to be still. "Do you want me to leave you?"

His head lulled to the side so he could look at her. "Will you just lay with me?" he asked quietly, and he was surprised to feel a lump rising in his throat and the corners of his mouth turn down hard. He hadn't just been bored at the camp. He'd grown lonely.

She smiled softly and scooted up next to him, laying her head in the crook of his shoulder like he had so often pictured Elena doing. He closed his eyes and tried to pretend it was her, but nothing was right. He could hear the party going on downstairs and her perfume was too strong and offensive. "Rose," he whispered.

"Hm?" she breathed.

"What if I don't make it back?"

 

Damon Salvatore was irrevocably aware of his regret. He was always thinking of all the mistakes he had made, but there was a particular grievance on his mind the morning he was shot.

He'd marched for so many hours across so many miles and when his men finally advanced on their enemies, he couldn't have been prepared for what he would see. He saw the blood of the north and the blood of the south mix and sink into the grass beneath his feet. He saw limbs blown off and he had heard the cries of men begging to be put out of their misery from all around. He did not think of this as he lay dying. Men he played cards with, men he had eaten meals with, men he had become friends with fell to the ground around him when the life was shot from their bodies. He did not think of this as he lay dying. He had done as he was told and aimed his gun at those who threatened him; pulling the trigger and watching them fall just as his friends had. He did not think of this as he lay dying.

He had gone down valiantly. A man raised his barrel in Ric's direction as his back was turned, and though Damon feared the tip of that gun more than anything else, he found himself diving in front of his friend and raising his own. He couldn't even get a shot off before he felt a jolt in his abdomen, almost like a punch. A second later, the pain followed and his vision went black for a moment. He knew he had been shot somewhere in his stomach, but he couldn't determine where the pain was coming from specifically. It was like someone lit a fire in his stomach and all he could do was lay there and burn. Ric turned just in time to protect himself from a second shot, shooting the man in the chest.

Damon didn't regret saving his friend. He didn't regret murdering those men in blue. He didn't regret kissing Rose. All he could see was Elena's face when she received word of his death. He could never do as Rose instructed. He could never tell Elena again that she was the only thing that kept him going. Not honor. Not glory. Not adventure. Not family. Elena. He regretted that her tears for him would run out and she would find a new man eventually, as selfish of him as that was. Ric hovered over him, shaking his shoulders, but he couldn't hear anymore. Only did he hear her voice saying his name like she did. "Damon?"

-16-


	17. Mother and Sister

**Part I**

**Chapter XVII**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Since the day Jeremy Gilbert was born, his sister had developed what even her own mother would call an obsession. It was as though her compassion for every living thing suddenly turned all of its attention to her brother. She was rarely without him. The wet nurse was only allowed to feed him, and then care for him when Elena couldn't. Their nanny, an elderly woman named Samantha who died only weeks after Elena turned fourteen, was treated the same way. Elena would pick out Jeremy's clothes and help boil the water to bathe him in. She read to him and tried to teach him when he got old enough. She loved him more fiercely than anyone or anything else. She learned to ease her grip as he got older, but it tightened once again when their mother died, and more when their father followed.

This trait did not come as a shock to anyone. This was a girl who cried when she found a dead snake in the yard and gave it a funeral. This was the girl who would sneak loaves of bread from the kitchen and give them to the hungry children she would see in town. This was the girl who somehow got a horse into the house so it wouldn't be cold in the out in the barn. Even with the trouble she caused, Miranda Gilbert was quite proud of her daughter. She knew she would make a beautiful wife and an excellent mother. It wouldn't be hard for her to find a suitable husband with a good name. Her children would grow up well cared for and educated. She knew all of this because of the way Elena cared for her brother.

Even though her brother grew up and her parents died, Elena's humanity never faltered. If anything, her love for children grew. All of this was perfectly clear when she sat on the floor, cradling a child's face in her hands. Ladies from around town had come forth to offer their condolences and concerns to the family after Stefan's "attack." They brought mixed gifts, like things to entertain a bed-ridden Stefan and baked goods they undoubtedly didn't make themselves. Honoria Fell, who had made Katherine and Elena a new set of dresses after the fire, even brought her daughter in hopes of cheering up Elena.

The ladies in the room lifted their eyebrows at her dress, which spilled out on the rug, but she didn't care. She'd spent so much of her time worrying about Damon lately. In the month he had been gone, she had made fourteen pairs of socks, nine cakes, four batches of cookies, and various other goodies, all of which snugly fit into the wooden boxes she sent to him every week. It only became worse after Jeremy was attacked and she learned all of Katherine's secrets. Instead of sleeping, she stayed awake at night, looking out her window for anyone lurking in the dark. She wrote letter after letter to Damon, expressing her fears, but burned them in the fireplace instead of sending them. But all these worries fell away at the sound of a laughing child.

The little girl, was only two, toddling around in a nice white dress that her mother probably made for her. Her perfect little ringlets bounced excitedly as she ran around the room, showing off. The ladies laughed quietly, but Elena was beaming. She had to resist the urge to grab the girl and squeeze her as tightly as she could.

She was so happy she didn't even noticed Katherine entering the room. "Stefan would like to thank you all," she smiled. "He only wishes he could do it in person." The ladies all offered sympathetic smiles and sat up when they saw servants bringing in tea and cakes. "I only wish I could offer you more in return."

Elena eyed her aunt uneasily. The ladies all looked at her kindly, almost as though they were admiring her. Katherine was so beautiful, and other unmarried women her age would have been called old maids, but no one thought that of her. She was too charming, too alluring. Elena was still unsure as to whether or not she trusted her, but she was reminded that she couldn't let anyone know that when she received a pointed look from Katherine. Elena ducked her head and returned her attention to the child once again. The little girl was standing in front of Elena, grabbing the silver chain of her necklace and tugging on it. "Do you like it?" Elena cooed quietly. "It was my mother's, you know."

"Elena," Katherine called sternly. "Get off the floor. You know better." Elena's cheeks turned red and she did as she was told, but the little girl quickly followed her to her spot on the couch, and climbed onto her lap. "As I was saying," Katherine continued, "help yourself. Quickly, though. I don't want to run you out of here, but I surely don't want any of you walking home too late. You never know what's lurking in the dark." Elena shivered at those words.

Jeremy walked in then, followed by John and Giuseppe. John went straight to his room without saying a word. Giuseppe watched him go for a moment, and then turned his attention to the room, pasting a smile to his face. "Good evening, all. Had I known Miss Katherine was going to throw a party, I would have arranged for better food to be served."

"They came on their own, Mr. Salvatore," Katherine smiled. "For your son. He's quite popular."

"Of course," Giuseppe said with a bow to the ladies. "My son and I thank you."

Jeremy slid unnoticed into the room, joining Victoria in the corner. He took her hand and gave it a small kiss, to which she replied with a small smile, before sitting down. Elena looked away before she got caught staring. Jeremy had told her he was going to ask Victoria's father for her hand soon. It was only a matter of time, but with Stefan's attack, he had decided to wait. Though he didn't know what the council really was, he was desperate to be a part of it, and an engagement might make that hard for him.

Elena frowned. His face was clear of any worry. It was as though he had never died, and according to him, he hadn't. Katherine didn't allow him to remember, and sometimes Elena wished she wasn't allowed to either. She and Stefan had started talking regularly now. She liked to sit with him when she was doing her needlework or when she was reading. They both enjoyed each other's company in place of Damon, and they could talk to each other freely about vampires and other risky things. He'd told her of his and Katherine's affair, and even trusted her enough to relay the information his father was giving him from the council.

Giuseppe began speaking once again and pulled her from her thoughts. "You all should get home soon," he said seriously.

"I was just saying that," Katherine said. "It's no fun to cut the party short, but it's just how things are until you big, strong men can get your hands on that killer."

Giuseppe laughed like a schoolboy talking to a pretty girl. "Don't worry, ladies. We will."

The house was quiet. Elena sat, as she liked to, next to at Stefan's bedside, working yet another pair of socks. Stefan sat bored, as he always did. Katherine had healed him quickly after she bit him, but compelled his nurse to keep treating him as she normally would. The only entertainment he had was pretending to be ill and wounded for those who didn't know. Elena almost pitied him, but she sometimes wondered whether he was doing this all willingly. John, Giuseppe, and Jeremy had gone out once again, as they did every morning. "They meet up at the Town Hall," Stefan explained. "John searched through the rubble and found every piece of paper that would help. They don't have much, but they're not calling off the search. They've been sending out men armed with stakes to try and find the vampire who bit Jeremy, but they haven't found anything so far."

"Then the vampire is getting smarter," she replied, not taking her eyes off of her work. "He's left or he's found another way to feed himself."

"Is Jeremy well?"

"He doesn't remember a thing, but he's set on making his way into that stupid council. John won't let him inside the meetings, so I can't imagine what he does all day when he goes with them."

"Do you think he'll figure it out?"

"I have no doubt. He's as stubborn as I am. He wants to know what's going on."

She was just about to say something else when she heard the sound of rushed footsteps up the stairs. She set her work down at Stefan's side and got to her feet, but Katherine burst in before she could open the door. Worry lines carved her forehead and her mouth was in a pointed frown. "Sit," she ordered. "We have a problem." In her hand, she held onto a yellowed envelope tightly. She handed it to Stefan, but kept her eyes on Elena. "You are going to be calm, Elena."

Elena nodded, and she already felt her muscles turning from stone to soft clay. She let out a breath. "What is it?"

"It's Damon."

Again, she felt the same disconnect that happened every time Katherine compelled her. Her muscles felt on the brink of tensing and her stomach felt as though it wanted to jump and tumble, but it had lost its legs. She tried to process her emotions as just thoughts, but panic didn't translate. She could only stare blankly, rigidly. "Is he dead?"

-17-


	18. The Man in the Cart

**Part I**

**Chapter XVIII**

**1864**

**? - Virginia**

On a particularly cold day in December, a squeaking wagon made its way over the uneven roads as it traveled toward the small town of Mystic Falls. Before, the old rattletrap had been used to cart away bodies and injured men from the battlefield. If one were looked closely, they might have noticed the faint bloodstains on the floor and sides. Someone else might still be able to smell the metallic scent of vomit that had sunken into the cracks of the old wood and festered. One gifted with those supernatural abilities of seeing and hearing beyond might even hear the screams of men grasping at limbs that they would soon lose. Or perhaps they would only hear the stillness of death, or a limp hand dragging through the dirt and mud as the wagon headed back to camp.

It was unlike any of those days, though, when Alaric Saltzman looked sadly at his best friend who lay limp across the length of the cart. He was dressed in full uniform, and looked much worse than when he first arrived. Now, the soft gray fabric was stained around his midsection and Ric worried for the hundredth time whether or not that stain was smaller when they left camp. Dirt and liquor also stained his clothes. His face looked sunken in, even though his body looked harder and broader than before. His skin was pale, and maybe even a bit yellowed, but Ric couldn't tell if that was because he had looked at him for so long. Instead of wide, curious eyes trying to see everything around him, or looking at something unseen to everyone else, in a dream, perhaps, they looked as though they were fighting to stay open. The red veins of sickness and fatigue had dulled the sharp blue of his irises. His eyebrows were drawn together in discomfort, revealing the dirt stuck in the creases of his skin.

Ric spoke to the man driving the wagon. "How much longer?"

"The town is on the horizon," the man replied. "We'll be there before nightfall."

Ric sighed with relief and he relaxed a little. When they left a week ago, Damon still had a hole shot through his abdomen, but he was laughing and talking. The doctors and nurses, who were incompetent in treating anything in any way other than sawing wounded limbs from bodies, rejoiced when they saw Damon survive his injury. They fed him cheap liquor and he allowed them to dig the bullet from his belly. Still, he was unwell, and although they said if he lived, he might fight again, they were more concerned about the fight already ahead of him.

Under Elijah's authority, Damon was granted furlough, where he would be allowed to recuperate at home, thus saving the Confederacy much-needed supplies and food, and allowing him to die with his loved ones if things went badly. Ric was given the mission of delivering Damon to his family, along with his furlough papers. A week ago, Damon would joke about how this living situation was worse than the one at camp, but now he couldn't even form coherent thoughts.

While Ric worried about of his friend's deterioration, Damon's mind ventured into other galaxies. He thought of his mother and how she detested the cold weather. He imagined her coming down from the heavens and wrapping arms made of sunlight around him, but then he would come back to reality and realize it was just his fever. Sometimes he would slip further into the depths of sickness and imagined the cold trying to penetrate his skin was his father, and he was struck with the question of whether his father was trying to use the cold to break his fever or if he was just trying to finish him off.

Elijah's words bounced around his brain. "It's odd that you ended up here." Wasn't it, though? It struck him at that moment that everywhere he had ended up in his life had been odd.

Of course, his thoughts often drifted to Elena as well, whom he realized, when he was coherent enough, was getting closer with every dull thud of his heart. When he was at his most delirious, and no longer had the mental strength to exercise that precise control over himself, his mind would wander to places he had never allowed it to go. He would find himself thinking of her billowing skirts and how he would like to slide his hand up into them and see what he could find. Other times he could picture her standing in front of him as he undid her corset stings, watching her relax a little with every move he made until it was just the bare skin of her back showing. His mind would wander to other things, like the night she visited him in her night-dress and he liked to think of the way it would fall to the floor, leaving her standing there, completely open to him. He could picture the blush on her cheeks perfectly. He could see every bump on her skin rise from the cold touching her. God, he wished he could touch her, if only to hold her hand. The thought made his heart stutter.

Ric leaned down from his place on the bench to put a hand on Damon's shoulder. "We're almost there, kid," he said. "Damon? Can you hear me?"

 

 

Elena looked up impatiently from her book and towards the window, biting down on her lower lip. Since Katherine had delivered the news of Damon's injury and impending return two weeks ago, she had not been able to keep her eyes from the window. Even though she didn't know where he was, she knew Damon was not far away. She could only reassure herself by reminding herself that she would see him soon. There was a mix of anxiety and joy inside of her. Although Damon was coming home, he had been injured in a way that many men did not survive. His survival for this long had already been a miracle, in fact, and now the only thing anyone could do was wait to see if he made the trip home.

When she first heard the news, she wanted to go wait by the road that entered town so she would be the first to see him, but both Katherine and John had forbade her from doing any such thing. Instead, she found excuses to do activities near the front of the house, so she would always be close by a window should he return that second.

The window she gazed from that day actually faced the back of the house and now she only looked there out of habit. Katherine had shooed her out of the parlor earlier, and so she joined Stefan, where she could freely worry and fidget.

He followed her gaze and shut his book softly. "Won't be long now," he said.

"You think I don't know that?" she snapped. Immediately, she wished she could take it back, but she had been on edge like this for a long time. Stefan was growing used to it.

"I just wish you would stop worrying," he said. "It only makes it worse for you."

"What if he doesn't make it?" she said, her voice becoming shaky. "What if he doesn't survive the trip? It's too cold out and he's already suffering."

"He's survived this long."

It wasn't a new argument they were having. They'd gone over it many times, but each time they both grew quiet in stalemate. Each was worried about the same thing, but only Elena was brave enough to admit it. Just as she opened her mouth to say something else, there was a knock at the front door. Stefan threw his quilt off, but Elena stood to stop him. "You've been attacked, remember?" she said, eyeing the bandage on his neck where nothing but clean skin and useless ointment hid.

He sat down with a huff, but she didn't turn to see his dirty look as she flew down the stairs, holding the rail with both hands so as not to fall. Katherine had appeared behind her at some point, but she didn't care. She threw open the door only to find the face of a stranger, not Damon. "Hello," he said, awkwardly. "I'm Private Saltzman. I was assigned to escort Private Salvatore from our camp."

The man was attractive. He was older than Damon, but more ruggedly handsome. Elena looked him up and down for a moment, expecting him to show her where he was, but when he only stood there, she shoved past him and towards the wagon. Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard Katherine apologizing for her behavior.

Damon sat with his eyes closed and his legs hanging off the back of the cart. His head leaned against the wood that held up the cover fabric. She gasped audibly at the sight of him. Aside from being shot, he looked sickly and malnourished. His body had changed since before he had been shot, and was slowly shrinking from lack of food. Tears came to her eyes and she realized everything he had told to her in his letters was a lie to appease her worry. He knew she would have been upset if he had told her of the conditions he was really facing.

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him on the cheek and burying her face his neck. She could only do it for a moment, lest she get into trouble, but she had to make sure he was really there.

Even though he was unaware any of this was even real, he wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he could manage. The scent of lemongrass and clean linen filled his nose. He felt tears well up in his eyes as he grasped at this illusion, wishing so desperately for it to be real. All he could hear were her quiet assurances, but he had heard them so many times in the past few days he could only brace himself for her to fall away into his subconscious, leaving him to be awakened by the bitter cold and harsh sunlight. "Damon?" he heard. "You'll be just fine now, Damon. You're home."

And just in case it wasn't just his imagination and just because he was so desperate to say it, he tried to focus on her beyond his spotty vision. "I love you, Elena. I hope you didn't forget that I love you so."

-18-


	19. Furlough

**Part I**

**Chapter XIX**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Even in the comfort of his own bed, there were times when Damon couldn't distinguish between real life and the battlefield. He sat between two fields of consciousness. In one field, he hovered in a semi-alert state. The pain burned in his belly like fire. He would groan, but he never moved. In some ways, he felt he was bargaining with his own body to numb the pain. Whoever watched by his bedside – usually Elena, who looked like some celestial guardian - would reach for the whiskey on the side table and pour it into his mouth generously. Then, he could only wait for the liquor to blind him in drunkenness or put him back to sleep. He couldn't tell if he was simply growing used to the taste or if his body was actually being trained to associate the burn in his throat with the dulling of the pain.

On the other side, he drifted away from the warmth of his sheets and found himself on the battlefield once again. Sometimes he would see the men he had killed. One would think it impossible to forget the face of a man who died at one's hands, but Damon learned otherwise. Of the men he killed - eleven, he thought – though he wasn't sure, he remembered very few of their faces. At the moment, it all happened too fast. So, when he looked upon the faces these ghosts, they often didn't have faces. He'd go against men who were unarmed, and though he could not explain why, would beat the man with whatever was in his hands, sometimes just his fists. The man would beg for mercy, but Damon would not stop. Perhaps it was fated for him to be a murderer, even in his dreams.

In other illusions, he would spot Elena walking across the battlefield. She stood out, gliding across the carnage, her pale blue dress unstained by any of the blood covering the ground around her. It wasn't until he got closer that he realized her chest shook and heaved. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked at the bodies around her. She brought her wet eyes to his. "Damon," she sobbed. "Damon, we must help them!" All he could think was how he couldn't stand to see her cry. He rushed forward, trying to comfort her in his arms, but she resisted. "It was you who killed them, wasn't it?" She backed away from him as though he were a monster. "How can you live with yourself?"

Even though he wasn't entirely coherent, the irony of him hardly being alive at that moment didn't slip by him at all.

As Elena looked down on this once beautiful man, she wondered if this was how his corpse would look. The life in his skin had drained away. The only color she could see was the redness in and around his eyes from crying. God, his cries of pain stabbed her heart like knives. When the nurse pulled the bedclothes back to check his wound, the spot revealed a rainbow of blues and yellows where broken veins leaked under his skin. Dried blood was caked under his fingernails from him scratching at himself and occasionally the hole in his abdomen. He was a nightmare, neither living nor dead. Some of the things about him still looked like a dream. Behind the redness of his eyes, was the blue that had washed over Elena so many times. Some days, when he was feeling well enough, they would look at her like they always did, with that shining reverence of a man in love. Mostly though, they shifted around, as though the spirits in the room were calling to him. The hair on his face had grown out a little. The nurse wouldn't permit him to move from his bed and shave, but Elena liked it. The rest of his hair had also grown long, even though most of the time, it was stuck to his face by the sweat from his fever.

Katherine had compelled her, of course, to feel no pain from this. When Elena looked down on him, she could only feel anger. She did not want to feel happy or calm as she waited second after miserable second to see if he would live or die. She did not want to be angry either, yet it seemed that anger was the only emotion she had left. It was the only negative emotion she was allowed to feel, so she sat, her book untouched in her lap, and brooded over the unfairness of it all. All of the noise and false emotion crowded in her head like a piano playing out of tune.

Elena was usually left alone with these thoughts. The compelled nurse had released Stefan, yet he was always too busy with Katherine or his father. Jeremy would sit with her sometimes, but he didn't understand any of it. He couldn't. John would check in, as did Katherine, but they had other things on their minds. He was too busy plotting against the vampires and she was too busy running fast enough to stay two steps ahead of him. Giuseppe never showed his face in that room. Not once. The nurse was seldom away from Damon, but she was too busy caring for him, to ever speak with Elena.

One day, when Elena was especially angry at the world around her, it was Damon who tried to lift her spirits. He wasn't well, but he was coherent and denied any liquor long enough for him to be able to speak with her. "I see you a little every day," he said, "yet I miss you still." She leaned forward and took his hand, hoping it would comfort him in some way, although she could see the pain clearly etched on his face. Apparently he saw the pain on hers as well. "What's wrong?" he said.

She could not tell him exactly what was wrong, couldn't reveal to him her fears, couldn't let him know that he'd heard Giuseppe speaking to John about the best type of wood used in coffins, and certainly couldn't let him know of her anger. He didn't have the strength to worry about her now. Instead, she shrugged and put a smile on her face. It was easier than she thought it would be and again anger jabbed at her stomach. It shouldn't be so easy to be happy.

As if reading her mind, or part of it, at least, he gestured to the table by his bed. "Would you help me, Elena?" She turned quickly to help him, fearing he would try to do it himself. "In the first drawer," he instructed. She opened it, but only found a stack of papers bound together by rough, brown string.

"This?"

"Yes. Would you hand that to me, please?"

She did, and he undid the string slowly. The papers all fell apart quickly as he did so, and she realized they were mostly letters. "Are these…"

"Yours," he finished. "And some other things I thought would be important."

She smiled a little. "Are you looking for one in particular?"

He nodded, "A piece of paper… folded I think. It won't be addressed to anyone." He found it before she did and grabbed it from the pile. "Read it," he said.

The paper was yellowed, and looked as though someone had spilt coffee on it in the top left corner. It held multiple blanks filled by someone who wrote the words by hand. It read:

 

To all Whom it may Concern:

The Bearer hereof  _Damon Salvatore_

a  _private_ in Captain  _Mikaelson's_ Company, 

_19th_Virginia Regiment, Co. A., Army of Northern Virginia, CSA, _

is hereby permitted to go to  _Mystic_Falls_

in the County of  _Albemarle_, State of Virginia,

_he_ having received a **FURLOUGH** from the 

_6th_ day of  _December, 1864_

until  _further notice_ , 1865, at which period

_he_ will rejoin  _his_ Company and Regiment at **CAMP STONEWALL**

or wherever it then may be, or be considered a Deserter.

**GIVEN** under my hand at Camp Stonewall,

this  _6th_ day of  _December_1864_ .

Elijah Mikaelson

_Elijah_Mikaelson_

Captain  _19th_ Reg. Va. Co. A., Army of No. Va., CSA

 

She looked up from the letter to find him giving a weak, yet still smug, smile. "Do you understand now?" he asked. "I've only been given a furlough so I can heal properly at home with my loved ones. With you. Once I'm better, I'll go back, serve my three years, and this will all be over and done with."

Her eyes sank back down and ran over the same bit over and over. "Until further notice, 1865." That blank wasn't supposed to say "further notice." It was supposed to have a specific date. Otherwise it wouldn't say 1865. Her cheeks grew red.

Are they just trying to let him die with some dignity? Is it better to die in service? Does that make him special? Perhaps they really are just unsure of when he will be better. He's been severely wounded. No one can guess when he will get better. "You're right," she said, and she couldn't tell if it was a lie. "I'm sorry for being so pessimistic."

He smiled and brought her hand to his lips, "See? Everything is just fine, my love."

A few days later, she crept nervously down the hall to his room. The day before, he had been in such good spirits. Some color had returned to his cheeks and he was flirting and being the Damon she had not seen since he left. This meant that there was a series of bad days around the corner – that was the way of this illness. She opened the door slowly, in case he was asleep, but when she finally got a view of his bed, she realized he wasn't there. Her stomach dropped as she swung the door open, looking for some sign of him. "Damon?" she cried.

There was a quiet whimper from the other side of the bed in response. She rushed to find him lying on the floor. The metallic smell of blood assaulted her and she felt bile rise in her throat. He lay sprawled out on the floor, blood spilling from his wound and onto his nightshirt. A puddle of some liquid surrounded him and for a moment she thought he had soiled himself, but then she saw the overturned basin next to him. "I just wanted to wash my own face," he sobbed. "I thought I could do it."

"Help!" she cried, finally. "Someone! Help!" His red hands shook as he held them over his gushing wound.

She fell to her knees and took his face in her hands, trying to get him to respond, but he was just babbling to himself. "I didn't want to do it…"

She heard footsteps crashing up the stairs. "It's all right, my love," she cooed through her tears. "We can wash your face later."

"My face!" he shouted. "I need to wash my hands! Look at them! Their blood is all over my hands!"

"Whose blood?"

"Please don't be angry with me," he begged. "I had to kill them."

Her eyes widened, but before she could question him further, the commotion had drawn people inside. John, Jeremy, and Stefan looked into the room. It wasn't long before the nurse was there, too.

"Go get Giuseppe," John instructed. "He's in the barn."

She looked down at Damon one last time before parting. "Everything is fine, my love." She prayed those words were able to reach him, wherever he was.

Giuseppe was exactly where John said he would be, calmly running a brush through his horse's mane. "Sir!" Elena exclaimed. "Come quickly. It's Damon."

He glanced at her dismissively, unshaken by her physical state and her words. "Isn't it always?"

"You don't underst-"

"I understand perfectly."

"Sir," she tried again, but her breath was growing ragged from holding back an angry sob. "He's dying!"

"He's been dying, my lady. You know that."

She looked at him in disbelief. How could he be so callous? So uncaring? "You won't come to say goodbye?"

"I said my goodbyes long ago."

Images of the bruises Giuseppe gave Damon flashed before her eyes. "He's your son."

"Thankfully," he said, finally looking her straight in the eyes, "I have another."

-19-


	20. Death Bed

**Part I**

**Chapter XX**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

As Elena watched the love of her life dying, there was nothing she could do but give him more and more liquor, hoping that even though he was drooling all over himself and speaking like a man in a brothel, he was distracted from his pain.

"Oh, Elena," he slurred. Each of his words came out with a whiskey stained breath. His sentences were riddled with little hiccups and pauses now and again. He was so drunk, she wondered if the real Damon was even there anymore. "Elena, Elena, Elena."

"Yes?"

"You e-ever get that feeling where you're so happy that your teeth grit… grit together and your head s-starts to hurt and your chest gets all tight and your fists get all fight-"

"Fight?"

"Tight! I mean t-tight. So, you're fists are all tight and you just feel like you'll go off like a cannon? You ever feel like that?"

The corners of her mouth turned down harder and her face got hot. Willing back tears, she tried to remember the last time she was genuinely happy – a time when she wasn't worrying about Damon or vampires. Before Katherine stated playing with her memories and emotions like they were toys. Damon continued on as though she had answered him. "Why do you think that happens, hmm? Why does my body want to explode when I'm happy? Does it think I won't get any happier?"

She brushed a tear from her cheek, hoping he didn't see. "Is that how you feel now?"

"I'll tell you when the liquor wears off," he smirked.

Just then, the nurse walked in, a worried look on her face. "No more of that," she said sternly, gesturing towards the bottle in Elena's hands. "Help me change his wrappings."

Elena nodded and stood quickly, setting the bottle on the table at Damon's side. They pulled back the bedclothes and the nurse adjusted his legs so they were straight. Apparently, being mortally wounded removed the suspicion of impropriety because now Elena unbuttoned his trousers and slid his shirt up his chest, revealing more of him than she ever should have seen before they married. Elena grabbed his hand as the nurse peeled back the white bandages covering his wounds. Damon groaned a little, but another sound caught her attention. She heard the front door open and slam shut, followed by almost inaudible sounds of footsteps flying across the floor. A second later, Katherine appeared in the doorway, her hair tumbling from its pins and her eyes wild. "Leave," she said to the nurse.

"Wait!" Elena called, looking down to the bloody flesh that just sat exposed now. But it was too late; the nurse was gone.

It was then that Stefan entered as well. His cheeks were red and he was breathing hard. Katherine shut the door behind him. "How is he?" he asked.

"Not now," Katherine chided.

"You have news?" Elena asked uneasily.

"They hanged two men and one woman," Stefan said. "Slaves."

Elena's cheeks grew red. "On what charges?"

"Conspiracy to commit murder," Katherine said, looking irritated. She gazed at Damon's partially visible lesion. It had been too long since she fed, and even with the smell of rot in her nose, her mouth watered. "The council knew they couldn't be vampires because they walk in the sun, so they thought the threat of death would make them offer up whatever information they had."

"Did they even have anything to do with the murders in the first place?"

"They were witches," Katherine said. "If anything, they would have been trying to keep the vampires away."

"Does the council know even about witches?"

"They were just looking for a scapegoat," Stefan said. "They needed something to keep the townsfolk calm. They don't have anything."

"Yet." Katherine said, her eyes looking between both of them shiftily. "I can't stay here much longer."

"What?" Stefan asked, and it was clear that he had never even thought of the possibility of her departure before.

"They've found witches, whether they know it or not. Now three of them are dead and they're going to do whatever they have to protect their own, including revealing any vampire within a hundred miles. I'm not safe."

"You can't leave," Stefan said.

"Not while the real criminal is still out there," Elena added.

"I have to leave because the real criminal is still out there. I don't have any choice."

Elena bit her lip. Of course, she wanted the protection that Katherine provided, but when she really thought about it, Katherine wasn't all that protective of anyone but herself. If she left, things would return to normal and the council would catch the mystery vampire or it would grow tired of Mystic Falls and move on as well. "Where will you go?" Elena asked.

"So quick to get rid of me, aren't you?"

"If you must go, then I'd like to know where."

"That isn't important right now."

"You can't leave," Stefan repeated.

Katherine softened a little, moving to Stefan's side. "What else am I to do?"

"Stay."

"Stay!" Damon shouted from his bed. "That's what they all say. They say stay. 'Stay!' they say. But nay. I say 'nay' to stay."

Elena took his hand, "Please, Damon. I need you to be quiet. Can you be quiet for me?"

"Quiet?" His voice was weak, but grew louder with each word. "Elena, I'm a regular fuckin' poet! I can't be quiet!"

Her stomach dipped a little, but she was growing used to his drunken vocabulary. Katherine laughed.

"He's dying, you know." Elena felt that anger leaking into her stomach once again. "You're laughing while he's dying."

"He's not dying," Stefan said. "He just needs time… to heal."

"Oh, he isn't?" Elena pulled back the covers a little more to give Stefan a better view of his wound. The hole was dark brown from a mixture of fresh and dried blood. White pus leaked in the center from the infection. The surrounding veins were dark under his skin. The smell was thick in Elena's nose, but she jutted her chin out against it. She wanted both of them to see it. To smell it.

She wished she could feel the hurt she saw in Stefan's eyes. She only felt ferocity towards the two people who would rather spend their time sneaking around in the candlelight than care for him at all. "Thank you, Doctor Salvatore, for the diagnosis. I appreciate you making a house call so early in the day. Would you like to change his bandages too? It's not like you've even seen them since he's been home." At that, she grabbed fresh ones from the bedside table and began to clean and bandage him herself.

Stefan ducked his head guiltily. "I didn't know."

"I expected as much from your father, but you?"

He stiffened at that, "You don't know anything about our father."

"I know enough. I know that you know exactly what I mean."

Katherine shot him a questioning glance. He had never told her anything unpleasant about his father.

"Just leave," Elena said through her teeth.

"Katherine," Stefan said. "You can help. You can heal him like you heal me. It's simple."

Elena's head snapped up. "You can do what?"

"Her blood," Stefan went on. "Her blood can help him."

"I told you before," Katherine sighed. "I can't afford to do that. Not with the head of the Founder's Council living in the same house as I. A recovery that rapid is just too suspicious."

"You could have healed him this entire time?" Elena thought back to the time Katherine caught her putting her ring on Damon's finger when she worried he wouldn't last another minute. "Put your ring back on, Elena. There's no hope, dear." Her ring could only save someone from supernatural death, she explained.

There's no hope, dear. That was all she heard.

"You knew he was dying, didn't you?" Elena stood again, approaching her 'aunt' with clenched fists and fire in her belly. "A dead thing must be able to sense other dead things. You could hear his heart struggling to pump that infected blood around his veins. You could smell the rot on his skin. You knew."

Katherine backed up a little.

"Do it!" Elena shouted. "Fix him! Now!"

Before Elena knew what was happening, Katherine's hand was around her throat and her back was against the wall. "You've stepped on dangerous ground," she growled.

"What will you do?" Elena challenged. "Suck me dry? Rip out my heart? You can't even afford to heal someone, let alone kill another."

For the first time, Elena saw the beast inside of Katherine. Never before had the monsters in the dark been real to her, even when Jeremy had been attacked. All of her fear had been so buried before, but now as she stared into Katherine's bloodshot eyes and watched the teeth slide from her gums, she felt real fear. It rose from the depths of her stomach up and into her throat. Whatever courage fueled by rage she felt before was gone.

"Katherine," Stefan said timidly. "He's my brother."

She turned back to Elena, who nodded against her grip. "Please," she choked.

She finally let go and bit her hand with a growl. She squeezed her fist over Damon's mouth, the blood falling slowly at first and then quickly. Damon sputtered at first, but opened his mouth after a moment. Elena shuddered. Fear was all she could feel now.

When Damon awoke, he felt as though he had spent the last hundred years of his life dead. There was a sudden rush of clarity and awareness when he opened his eyes. Early morning light poured in through the curtains, filling the room with dim light. The room smelled like sickness and the mattress below him was molded to his body, but he felt good. He felt strong and limber and for the first time, he noticed how good it felt to bring air into his lungs and stretch his muscles.

He felt something stir between his fingers and when he looked down he realized it was Elena's hand. Her head rested at his side and a mass of curls spilled out on his abdomen. Her face was dark, as if this was the first time she had slept in a long while, but her expression was peaceful. She was in her nightdress and he realized she had probably snuck in the night before. He tightened his grip. For so long, he felt as if he was looking at her from the bottom of a well. Her head would peek over the top and she would shout down to him, but he was too far down, floating in the water at the bottom.

"Elena," he whispered. He was so awake. He needed to sit up, run in a field, take the woman he loved in his arms and spin her around because, God, he was so alive. "Elena, wake up."

She sat up with a start, taking in her surroundings with sleepy eyes. "Damon?" She fumbled on the side table for the bottle of whiskey. "Are you all right? Do you need more?"

He smiled. She was more perfect than he remembered. How long had it been? "No, I don't need any more."

She sat up straight as if struck by sudden reality and all the sleep was swept from her brain. "Damon?" He smiled and she laughed like she was going to cry, but he grabbed her face before she could. "You're all right?" she breathed.

"I'm fine," he assured her.

She stood and ripped the covers from his body, tearing the strings loose from his nightshirt and pulling it off. There wasn't a scratch. Not a mark on him. She put her hands where his wound used to be just to be sure, and it had disappeared. She understood now what he was talking about in his drunken stupor the previous night. She felt like she could go off like a cannon.

It was then that she kissed him. She kissed him once and then twice and then she was kissing every inch of his face and laughing like a maniac. This was the moment she had dreamed of from the moment he left her. This was the moment he dreamed of from the moment he met her.

-20-


	21. Union

**Part I**

**Chapter XXI**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Miranda Gilbert was a beautiful woman in life and in death. She had some blessings that many lacked. She married well and birthed two beautiful children for her husband. It was she who ensured they were both educated in science as well as the arts. She made certain they were classically trained on the piano. She taught them both how to make pastries as well as the art of conversation. She did her best to pass on her traits, along with her love, before her sickness, which struck her down like a lighting bolt splits a tree in half. It was so sudden and strong a force of nature that no one could have prevented it, even if they had seen it coming.

Oddly enough, it was her mother who was on Elena's mind as she slid her fingers lightly up Damon's arms, past his neck and up into his hair. He was close to her now, looking into her eyes, and she could feel a rush to her fingertips. Her mother, of course, had instructed her, though not always plainly, in the duties she would have as a woman on the first day she bled. Elena had learned about running a household, entertaining at parties, caring for the children, and, of course, her responsibilities in the bedroom. Her mother sat her down and gave her an opaque description of what would happen once she shed the white dress. Elena was horrified, to say the least. The first time will hurt the most, her mother said, and you will endure it that night and many more nights after. When she looked up at Damon, though, she didn't see anything that needed to be endured. Her mother's words weren't making sense anymore - not with Damon.

His eyes were as piercing as ever, but it wasn't their blue she saw; it was the lines around them. Wherever he had been when he was gone had darkened his skin, and the sun had carved lines into the corners of his eyes. It didn't make him look worn as much as it made him look older - like a man. It was as though he wore everything he had seen out there on his face. She drew closer and kissed him tenderly, but only because she couldn't sit under his gaze for another second. She couldn't let him see how nervous she was.

Her thoughts were drawn to the last time they were alone like this, and this time she didn't think of the bruises that covered his torso, but she thought how different everything was now. At the time she had been so careless, so free. She still had champagne running through her veins and all she could think about was how he was leaving her for an old tent and a gun, and soon. There certainly weren't any thoughts of her mother. That night hadn't been that long ago, but she felt like she was still just a girl, then. The thought crossed her mind she might still be a girl now, and he had been a boy not too long ago, but they were changed now. She had seen her brother die and she had watched Damon follow behind him. He had watched hundreds die. He had killed. She didn't know if she was yet a woman, but he couldn't find any childhood left inside him.

It was still very early in the morning, but no one had yet stirred from their beds, so every move either of them made was made carefully. They acted as if one squeaking floorboard would alert everyone to where they were and what they were doing.

Damon forced himself to move slowly. He didn't understand it, but he could feel Katherine's blood racing through his veins. The mixture of that, along with the desire he felt, made him shiver a little. Elena ran her hands all over him as if to learn every plane of his body. She traced and retraced over every muscle and bone until his impression was burned into her fingers. The feeling of her just-barely-there touch raised goose bumps across his skin. He too, was feeling his way through the unfamiliarity of it all. At school, boys talked of women all the time. He wasn't practiced, but he was knowledgeable.

Never let a man see your naked body, Elena heard her mother say. It will only encourage him. This played over and over as she stripped off the layers of her clothing. First, her dressing gown hit the floor, and Damon's hand roamed the newly naked territory of her arms. He helped her undo the ties at the neck of her nightdress, pulling them slowly and to the side so he wouldn't have to break his lips from hers. It was awkward at first, as they both tried to tug the ties out of the knots and keep close in their embrace. It was Elena who broke away, smiling and blushing. Never saying a word, she pushed him backwards so he was sitting on the bed. She undid the rest of the ribbons herself, opening the front of her nightdress to reveal her bare breasts. She smirked a little as she watched him watch her. He had a look in his eyes that was unlike anything she had ever seen on any man. It was the engrossed fascination of an artist watching his muse. He would widen his eyes just a bit, but never dropped his gaze from her body. She let the gown slide to the floor and she stepped out of it, towards him.

She was totally bare now, standing right in front of him and he gazed up at her as if she were a pagan goddess. He lifted a hand to her belly, pushing it up the soft skin and over her breasts until he could wrap his hand around the back of her neck and pull her face to his. He pulled her closer until she had to climb on to the soft sheets of the bed with him. Whatever your duty is to your husband, it should be performed in complete darkness. Elena thought of this as Damon trailed his hands along the streaks of morning light that illuminated her body. She didn't want darkness to mask him from her, or her from him, for that matter.

You shouldn't make a sound as he huffs away, nor move. Never for a minute embolden him by making him think you enjoy it. This lurked in the back of her mind when he positioned himself over her on his knees. She lifted her legs up to wrap them around his waist and as he kissed her up and down on every spot, she found her hips and legs had begun to shake uncontrollably. This did not keep her from making what few sounds she could. Occasionally he would run his tongue over just the right spot on her neck, or flick it just the right way over her nipple, that sent a before-unfelt pleasure down her spine. He reveled in it. The way she suppressed a whimper or the way her hips rocked against his in place of a groan brought a smile to his face.

He tried to maintain himself, but every breath, every sound she made pushed him to a dangerous height of excitement. For a moment, he was embarrassed about his hardness, but when he looked into her eyes he saw his bashfulness mirrored in hers. Her cheeks were flushed and she made every movement after careful consideration. He was a little surprised when she stopped rocking beneath him in order to take his hand and bring it carefully between her legs. She never took her eyes off his for a moment, and he pressed his forehead against hers. She drew in a little breath as he explored her body. He was undeniably pleased when he felt the wetness between her legs, proud that he had something to do with giving this woman any pleasure he could. He was unsteady in his movements, unsure of what he was doing, but Elena took his hand once again to help him. She smiled reassuringly as she guided him, exploring herself as well. She directed one of his fingers inside of her slowly, her nervousness clear on her face. She released his hand and let him play, and he measured by her expression what angles she liked and at what pace he should go. When she opened her eyes, she couldn't help but giggle at the look of concentration on his face and the delicate touch of his hands.

She pulled him down on top of her once again and he willed himself to maintain control. It was clear by her face that she didn't want to wait any longer, and his body was telling him that he didn't really have an option. They both pulled at the buttons of his drawers, and while he took control, trying to get yet another pesky button undone, Elena braced herself. There was no going back after this. He finally got it undone and she could hear him slipping his drawers off, but then she was too nervous to look down. His face swam into view and she willed back the tears in her eyes. "We don't have to go on," he whispered, his mouth right by her ear as he feathered kisses on her skin. "I won't if that's what you want."

She brought his mouth back to hers and kissed him gently. It occurred to her this would change things. There was the possibility they could get caught and her reputation would be ruined. And, according to her mother, he would expect this sort of gratification all the time now, but she wanted it as well. There was nothing she wanted more than Damon. What was wrong with that? "Gently, now," she whispered back and he nodded as he sat up.

Looking down at her, he just breathed her in for a moment. She looked to the ceiling anxiously, her lower lip caught between her teeth. He rubbed his hands up her thighs and onto her stomach, pausing there to measure her nervous breaths. She still couldn't look up to him. He bent down to kiss her once more as he gently rubbed the tip of his member back and forth over her folds. She sucked in her breath, smiling a little, and squirmed underneath him. He made a mental note of that. Then, as softly as he could, he sank into her. Her body was rigid and tight around him, and a look of discomfort crossed her face for only a moment. She let out a breath and relaxed a little, but she still didn't move. Slowly, he pulled out and then eased inside again. She turned her head away because she could feel tears welling up again. They didn't come so much from the discomfort – many things were racing through her mind. Happiness because she knew Damon was the one person on the planet she should be doing this with; sadness because now, she was really a woman and she wasn't sure if she was ready to claim that title; anxiety at the thought of who might be lurking outside the door; and of course, the pain.

He was pumping in and out of her faster now, and as he reached his climax, she just felt numb. It was only matter of moments before he started to feel his control slip away. He opened his mouth to moan and Elena slapped a hand over it, reminding him of what was at stake. He buried his head in her shoulder then, and entwined his fingers with hers, a warmth spreading in his belly until he slammed into her one final time, a little harder than he meant to. His body relaxed on top of her and she let out a little sigh, running her fingers through his hair. It was neither bad nor good for her, but she would have done it a hundred more times if it meant she could hold him like this.

For his part, Damon was in a daze. Elena was all there was. She was the smell of honey and lemongrass in his nose. She was the taste of sweat on his lips. She was the heavy breath that filled his ears. She was the soft hair on his face and the warm body below him.

The euphoria left him all at once though, when it struck him that he'd made a mistake. He wouldn't have even realized it had he not heard the men talking around the campfires about their own sexual adventures when he was still at camp.

Elena lay contentedly, her breathing slowly returning to normal, but his began to pick up. The night that Damon had supposedly popped his cherry at that brothel, a man talked about his many liaisons in the army as they made their way back to camp. You always gotta ask yourself, kid, 'Did I leave anything behind?' the man said. This confused Damon, of course. Like, the man continued, when I go stay with one of the fine ladies at the inn, I don't like to leave any of my things behind. I grab my hat and my coat and any other extensions of my being that might be of importance. Damon looked to Ric for some sort of explanation, but he was laughing too hard to answer. Jesus, kid. Just don't go leaving a trail of bastards from here to the Mississippi, all right? He never really understood what the soldier was talking about until just then.

Elena pulled the covers over them both and allowed him to settle back down with his head on her chest. None of these thoughts plagued her. Damon slipped his hand between her legs and stroked up and down her thighs. He could feel his seed running down her legs and on to the sheets and his cheeks turned red. "What are you thinking about?" she asked quietly, as she kissed his hair and stroked his back.

"You, of course."

"What about me?"

"I'm in love with you, Elena."

She smiled down at him. "I'm in love with you, too, Damon."

-21-


	22. The Good Son

**Part I**

**Chapter XXII**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

The afternoon sun was high in the sky when Damon awoke. Without opening his eyes, he stretched his arms out around him, hoping to find Elena at the end of his fingertips, but no one was there. The room was silent, aside from his own heartbeat. Disappointment was on his face before he even opened his eyes. As he fell asleep earlier, he ran his thumb lightly over Elena's collarbone – already rising and falling slowly – and he thought about waking up to find her still next to him. He could wake her up and watch her eyes open, still drowsy with sleep, and perhaps she would smile a little when she saw him. Or perhaps her eyes would open in panic when she realized where she was and what she had done, but he didn't want to think about that. He wanted to think about the taste of her lips when she gave him one final kiss goodbye. Instead, there was no one but him. The spot where she had lain had grown cold and the smell of her skin had disappeared from the sheets.

The sheets themselves were in dire need of changing, and he wondered if anyone would ask questions when they did. He shrugged off the thought; a massive wound in his body had been leaking all sorts of substances not twenty-four hours ago, so it was possible no one would think twice about it. He leaned over and grabbed his trousers from the floor, but his shirt was harder to find. He finally spotted it peeking out from under the other side of the bed. He knew he wasn't supposed to be healed, so of course, he couldn't leave his room, but the after effects from Katherine's blood in his veins still made him feel a little anxious.

He laid back against his pillows and tried to distract himself with his thoughts. Now that he was healthy, he could go back to the fight, although he didn't know if that was a good thing or not. He hadn't even made a dent in the time he owed the Confederate army before he was shot, so when he went away once again, he would be gone for a long while. He would have to say goodbye to Elena again. The image of her flashed through his mind and the worried knot in his stomach twitched. Perhaps he'd have to say to another new face by the time he left. He pictured a bouncing little boy sitting on Elena's lap. He would have her big brown eyes and his wavy black hair. He would have rosy cheeks and all the love they could offer him. It was a happy image clouded by the thought of what would happen if he were born out of wedlock. Suddenly, the child was taken from Elena's arms and the word 'bastard' tumbled around in his brain. Elena had no family who could raise the child, nor did Damon. Elena would have to leave Mystic Falls to have the child, and might never even see it. He suddenly felt very ill.

Just then, his nurse came in. "Oh, good," she smiled. "You're awake." He went to sit up before she pushed him down. "No, dear! You'll rip open your stitches again." He lay back and watched her with wide eyes as she pulled his shirt up. Nothing was there, not even his bandage, and he looked guiltily up at her. She gasped, "Mr. Salvatore, you've removed your bandages!"

"Well, I don't need them anymore, do I?" he asked, confused.

"Miss Gilbert gives you too much from that bottle," she sighed. "It's a shame to see such a bright-eye go balmy."

She pulled back his shirt once again and began to treat the spot on his stomach as she had every day, taking no notice of the perfectly unharmed skin that sat there now. "I don't-" he began.

"Quiet, dear. You're never to take your dressings off, do you understand? It could make your situation so much worse." His eyebrows drew together in a confused grimace, but he nodded anyway. "You're lucky this time," she smiled sweetly, touching a hand to his forehead. "Your fever has gone down as well."

"Where's Elena?"

"She's at tea with the Donovan girl, talking up her brother, I suppose."

He nodded, "Stefan?"

"He accompanied Miss Katherine into town. She's just announced she'll be leaving soon and she wanted to buy some more winter gowns for when she goes north."

His tongue stuck to the top of his mouth at his last question, and he eventually had to force himself to say it. "What about my father?"

Her hands froze for a moment and he could hear the lie in her voice. "You know how busy he is, dear. It isn't easy being the man of the house."

At that, the door flew open and from around the nurse Damon caught a flash of brown curls. For a moment, he thought it was Elena who had come to see him. "Oh! Miss Katherine, I didn't think you were home." The nurse carefully placed Damon's nightshirt back over his abdomen and lifted the blankets over his chest.

"Stefan and I just returned," Katherine said, appearing from behind the nurse. Her eyes made her look like an animal braced to kill. "I wanted to check on him."

"He's doing better, though that isn't saying much." Damon watched her solemn eyes fall to the floor and he wanted to scream. Had it all been a dream? Was he crazy for thinking he had been healed?

Katherine nodded as though she cared before grabbing the nurse by the soldiers and turning her so they were face to face. "Go downstairs and check on Stefan."

"Is he unwell?" she asked blankly.

"You're just doing it out of the kindness of you own heart."

The nurse did as told and left the room without another word. She had left her supplies lying scattered on the bed around Damon.

John caught the door just as it was closing. "Katherine," he started, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Damon. "Oh, I didn't realize he was awake."

"It's good to see you," Damon said with a smile.

John's eyes widened. "Oh! You sound so well."

Damon smiled, and Katherine scowled down at him. "He's having a good day, indeed," she said nervously.

It was then that Damon remembered he was still supposed to be ill. He slumped down a little. "I'm feeling some better," he said, feigning a grimace.

John eyed him suspiciously. "I just came to tell Katherine that I'm going to get Elena and escort her home. Damon, I'm glad you're in good spirits."

Katherine curtsied and Damon nodded politely as John went.

As soon as the door creaked shut, Katherine slapped a hand around his throat, slamming the back of his head against his headboard. His eyes widened at the sight of her face that looked like a monster out of a book. His heart pounded and the back of his head throbbed with each beat. "I'm truly shocked at how stupid you turned out to be," she said through gritted teeth.

His throat felt as though it was sealed shut, and he could only reply with a fearful glance.

"I saved your life, did I not? I healed you. I compelled your nurse to care for you still. I brought you back from the brink of hell just to make my niece happy and this is how you two repay me?"

He could see the anger pulse below her eyes.

"Do you know what I'm referring to, sweet Damon?" Her expression softened a little and her true face faded away. She brought her free hand to his face and gently caressed his cheek. He knew exactly what she was talking about, but even without her hand secured around his neck, he couldn't have said it. "Can you guess what I found when I came to check on you this morning, Damon?"

Her, he thought.

"I take time out of my busy day to make sure you're well and I find my precious little niece laying in your bed like some common whore!"

The last word was like a punch to the gut.

"Do you feel good about what you've done? Hmm? You think anyone will have her if they find out what you've done? You have ruined her."

His face was turning red and her fist tightened with each word. It crossed his mind that his neck would snap if she carried on. She seemed to have that thought as well because she finally relinquished him, giving him a minute to choke on the sudden rush of air into his lungs. She pulled his head back to face her by the hair.

"She begged me not to kill you, and I should have. I should have ripped that tiny brain from your skull. I should have castrated you." His stomach dipped. He had never heard a lady talk like this. He had never even heard a man talk like this. "I should have killed you both. It would have been more merciful than letting you both live to see the consequences."

"You told someone?" he said, finally.

"Lucky for you both, I have a vested interest in Elena's future, so I can't kill her myself. As for you," and her eyes glanced over him like she was ready to rip him limb from limb, "she'd do it for me if I ever did anything to you, so you'll see another day. You should be thankful that she's just as weak as her father."

"What are the consequences then?"

"It all depends on when your luck runs out," she smirked, releasing his hair. "If you two decide to do this again and you get caught by someone who isn't as levelheaded as myself, she'll be ruined. If, god forbid, she bears a child because of this, she'll be ruined. Somehow you avoid all of the consequences every time, but perhaps Elena's suffering will be enough for you."

He swallowed hard; only one of those things had crossed his mind before. "But what if I marry her?"

"Your father has discouraged John every time the subject comes up. He says he already has a bride in mind for you."

Damon's stomach sank. There was no bride, of course.

"You have another girl waiting on you and you're leading on Elena as though she was a dog?"

His eyes widened," No!"

She put a finger on his lips. "You've complicated my situation quite severely, you know." She took the finger from his lips and dragged it down his chest onto his belly where the hole used to be. "Perhaps I'm being petty," she sighed, but there was a feral look in her eyes. He watched her nervously to see what she would do. Sweat had formed on his brow and his breathing picked up. Suddenly, she was digging into his abdomen with her pointer finger. She broke through the bandages and the skin and muscle all at once until she could feel his organs at her fingertips. For a moment, he didn't feel it, and then, like a gunshot, agony leaked through out his belly. She smacked her hand over his mouth before he could scream. "It's fine," she purred. "I told you I'd let you live, didn't I? I will heal you just as before, but first I need to see you suffer."

He could feel tears spilling from his eyes. "I'm sorry!" he choked as quietly as he could. "Please! I'm sorry."

"I know you are," she said looking him in the eyes. "You're so sorry, you won't go near Elena - not if you can help it. You won't tell anyone about what just happened now or earlier in the morning. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he sobbed. "Please!"

Satisfied, she took the finger out of his stomach and allowed him to drink from her wrist. The sheets were significantly bloodier than when she arrived, but when she left, Damon was in good health – better health, even. The nurse was waiting just outside the door, and Katherine smiled at her sweetly. "You'll need to change his dressings. I'm afraid he's bled through them." The nurse peeked through the door but when she looked back to Katherine she was already walking down the hall. "And throw out those sheets for God's sake!"

 

Damon had spent the rest of the day pacing back and forth in his bedroom. Every now and then when he heard footsteps come down the hall, he would quickly jump to his bed and make his face look like a man's who had been shot. Every nerve in his body was alive, even though it wasn't like the first time Katherine had fed him her blood and he exhausted all of his energy with Elena. Now he felt agitated, as though he needed to go everywhere at once. Elena was on the front of his mind at every second, but he couldn't see her. He guessed she wouldn't be coming to see him either.

It was late in the night when he finally felt at ease enough to climb in his bed, although he knew he wouldn't sleep. He stared at the candle that he had left burning across the room. The flame sat almost still for longs periods of time, swaying back and forth just barely and then suddenly something unseen to him would make the flame jump and twitch. He had lost track of how long he had watched it when he heard footsteps in the hall. He sunk down in his covers, closing his eyes and praying his heartbeat would slow when the door opened slowly.

Footsteps made their way across the room slowly and stopped by his bed. Damon resisted the urge to peek, but the silence made him uneasy. Whoever it was dragged a chair all the way up to his bed, and he could hear it creak as they sat in it. Weight shifted on the mattress when they propped their elbows on it. There was a moment where nothing happened and then he felt a drop of moisture hit his arm followed by a sob. Finally, he couldn't resist anymore, and he peeked through the slits of his eyes. His body went cold and stiff. There next to him, with nothing but the candle light to make him known, sat Giuseppe Salvatore, his hands clasped in front of his face as though he was praying.

"Father?" he whispered, though he knew he was supposed to be asleep. Giuseppe jumped backwards with a gasp. Damon threw the covers off of himself to stand and Giuseppe cowered into the corner. "Father, are you all right?"

"No," he said, straightening a little.

"You were crying."

"Yes."

"Why?"

The older man advanced on his son carefully, stopping a few steps away. "I was thanking God that John Gilbert was wrong."

"About what?"

"He said you weren't sick any longer, but when I saw how pale you were and heard the shallowness of your breath I thought he was wrong."

"You want me to be sick?" Damon frowned.

"I'd rather you were sick than a demon."

He looked down at himself to evaluate. He hadn't grown scales or a tail. His voice sounded normal and he didn't have very sharp teeth. "What do you mean?"

Giuseppe reached for the nightstand, grabbing something that Damon hadn't noticed before. It was a stake, he realized. "If you were mortal, you would still be sick, and you would die soon just as any man would."

Damon backed up a little. It crossed his mind that he might be able to call for help, but he realized John was in on this too, and his brother, possibly even Jeremy. There was no one to save him. "I promise you, I'm not a demon."

Giuseppe dove at his son then, the stake braced awkwardly. They struggled for a moment, quietly, and Damon wondered if he would ever see Elena again. "I can't let everyone see the shame you've brought upon this family," Giuseppe grunted. "I won't let you drag us down to hell with you."

Damon fell backwards, trying to think of some way to reason with his father, and it was his hesitation that allowed Giuseppe to plunge the wood through his chest. He stared down at his son as he struggled against the pain, but nothing like what he expected happened. He didn't see a flash of light or see the face of a monster. There was no clap of thunder or some supernatural sign that the mortal man had defeated his immortal foe - only the face of his son collapsing in agony. Blood poured from the wound and onto the sheets, and with each moment that Giuseppe held his weapon tightly in his son's chest, he wondered if all vampires died like this. Finally, when Damon could no longer struggle and the only thing on his mind was the mind-numbing pain of wood splintering in his heart, his father ripped the stake out.

Damon looked back to the candle again, watching the flame dance wildly, but he wasn't thinking about that. He wasn't even thinking of Elena. Only the pain. There were a few more moments where his heart tried to pump, until it finally just stopped, and after fighting to stay alive for so many months, he was dead.

-22-


	23. A Father's Love

**Part I**

**Chapter XXIII**

**1864**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

 

Giuseppe stared down at Damon's corpse, watching the dim candle light dance on his pale skin. His head had fallen to the side, but his eyes were still open. He was so still. Giuseppe threw the stake on the bed next to his body and took a step backwards, trying to collect himself. He needed to get John, but he was afraid to turn his back on it. Damon had risen from the dead once; what was to stop him from doing it again? He kept his back to the wall and slowly exited the room, shutting the door behind him and hurrying off to John's room down the hall.

What he didn't know was the actual vampire in the house was very much alive, technically, and braced to kill anyone who stepped through the door. She considered leaving through her window, but she knew she couldn't leave without Stefan. She put her ear to the wall that divided her room and his, focusing hard. She could hear the sound of his steady breathing, and though she wanted desperately to see him, she knew he would only slow her down. So, as quiet and poised as a cat, she snuck down through the house. She saw Emily waiting at the bottom of the stairs, worry in her eyes. "Something is wrong," she whispered.

Katherine nodded, "Prepare the carriage. We're leaving."

Emily did as she was told immediately, turning to leave. Their carriage was packed with everything she might need should she have to flee on a whim. This had been her custom since the revolutionaries in France had run Katherine out of her home more than fifty years ago. She had been left with nothing - no money and no clothes. All she had was Emily and a stolen horse. They had seen to it they would never be put in that situation again.

In the meantime, John examined Damon's body. He did not have the reaction Giuseppe imagined. He expected there would be some kind of congratulation for defeating their foe, but John only looked down with wide eyes. Before his books had been burned and he had been left with only the bare bones of an idea of what a vampire was, he had read mainly about the killing of a vampire. In some legends, the demon would turn to dust, or contrarily to stone. It was a creature created by magic and it was his assumption that its death would be evidence of that.

Giuseppe stayed on one the side of the room, but John got up close, leaning on the bed to steady himself over the body. He braced the blade he carried in his hand tightly as though Damon's body would spring up at any second. "Were you bitten?" he asked.

"Of course not!" Giuseppe shifted uncomfortably, ready to strip down to nothing if that's what he had to do to prove that he was not going to turn into a monster. "He didn't even try!"

"Did he struggle?"

"For a moment, but it was much easier than I expected."

"Then the legends depicting them with inhuman strength were false." John pulled back the neck of Damon's nightshirt, looking for any bite marks. It was only a moment more before he discovered that the wound on his stomach had disappeared as well. "He had healed, just like I told you." He took a vial of vervain from his pocket and rubbed it on the boy's arm, but the skin reacted as if it was water.

"The demon is gone, then?"

"Perhaps it is expelled from the body before it dies. First the demon goes and then the body can't function any longer without it. Though, he certainly isn't how I pictured a dead vampire." John paused for a moment longer, evaluating Damon's body like a scientist. "Nothing happened after you staked him?"

"Well, he died," Giuseppe said.

John rolled his eyes. "Before that?"

"No, nothing."

"You're sure?"

Giuseppe nodded.

"Curious," John sighed. "The Council will want to know about this first thing tomorrow morning."

"No!" Giuseppe moved forward then, bracing the sleeves of John's shirt. "Please, you can't tell anyone."

"Imagine the shame it will bring to my family! Please! We can announce him dead from his wounds and forget about it all. The town is safe now. That's all that matters."

"You think Damon was the one who murdered those people?"

"Wasn't he?"

Katherine listened to all of this as she quietly ascended the stairs. She needed to change her clothes, but it was so fascinating to listen to the two talk of matters they knew nothing about. She stopped just as she reached the top of the staircase when she saw Stefan walking cautiously towards the room. Her muscles braced, but she kept to the shadows, watching him from afar.

"Damon?" Stefan said as he opened the door. John and Giuseppe jumped and braced their weapons in front of themselves. Whatever sleep that had moments before weighed down his mind was gone when he saw what had happened. His brother's body hung lifeless over the side of the bed, his chest covered in blood. The two men's hands were covered in it as well. His stomach sank and bile rose in his throat. The smell was strong in his nose. "Father?"

Neither of the men could find the words to respond and Stefan rushed forward to his brother's side.

"Damon? Damon can you hear me?" There was nothing, no response. "I don't understand," Stefan breathed. "What happened?"

"He was a monster," Giuseppe said. "He was like whatever attacked you. He even attacked me."

"We know this is still new to you," John added. "We've tried to keep you informed, but it's a lot to take in."

"It wasn't Damon, son. He's gone."

"That's not how it works!" Stefan cried. "You don't understand… Damon wasn't a monster." The men looked at him like he was a madman. "Vampires aren't so different from us. They're still human on the inside. They can live without causing harm. I know! I've seen it!" He'd said too much, but he hadn't disobeyed Katherine's compulsion; he hadn't even mentioned her.

"He's a sympathizer!" John spat.

"No," Giuseppe choked. "No, he's just upset. He doesn't know what he's saying. His grief is speaking for him."

"I am speaking," Stefan growled. He grabbed the bloody stake from beside his brother's body and turned quickly. "You were just waiting for an excuse, weren't you, father? The only thing you regretted about sending him off to war was that you wouldn't get to kill him yourself! Now you have your wish."

Giuseppe scowled, too consumed with his son's words to pay any attention to John, who was waiting for just the right moment to disarm the boy. Before either of them noticed, John dove at Stefan, knocking him to the ground. It was then that Katherine couldn't listen anymore. By sunrise, she would be gone and Stefan would be at her side. There was nothing she had to lose. She burst through the door, scanning the room for him. He slid back away from John's grip, breathing hard. "Katherine," John said through quick breaths. "Go, it's not safe."

He watched in horror as her eyes turned red and her fangs slid out of her gums. "You're right, John. It's not safe." She'd spent a majority of her years assuring that her family was alive, but John was not her family. Her blood did not run through his veins. He was insignificant to her. She didn't even flinch at the sound of his neck snapping beneath her fingers.

Giuseppe watched as he cowered in the corner, praying to God he would make it out of this alive. He could save Stefan. If he could get rid of the demon who had seduced him, he could teach his son the reality of the situation. This didn't have to be the end. He waited until Katherine had turned around to check on Stefan before he snatched up the stake that had rolled near his feet. Her back was to him, and if he was quick and quiet enough, he could end this all. He dove at them both, fearful that if he ran across the wooden floor, she would be able to anticipate him coming. He jabbed the stake at her and felt the tip pierce her skin just it had Damon's. He continued to push as hard as he could while he struggled with both her and Stefan under him. He could hear the bones of her chest breaking under his fist, but the tip of the stake had dulled slightly after he used it on Damon.

Katherine ripped Giuseppe off of her by the back of the shirt, throwing him at the wall across the room with ease. He hit the floor with a dull thud, and when she turned to face him, she saw he had lost consciousness. "Stefan?" she whispered. He squirmed on the floor next to her, facing the wall. "Stefan, come. We can't stay here any longer." Her eyes flickered nervously to Damon's body on the bed. He had her blood in his system, and he would not stay a body for much longer. "Stefan?" Her nose flared at the sweet smell of his blood and she reached down to turn him over. Giuseppe had not staked the vampire, but his son. The wood lodged itself haphazardly but deeply in his lower chest – not even close to his heart. "Stefan!" she cried.

His watery eyes locked on hers, and she could see the pain coming through his irises. Distracted by the panic and the smell of his blood, she could feel her fangs emerge. She shook her head, trying to collect herself before shredding the skin of her wrist with her teeth. She held it up to his mouth but he was already beginning to cough from the blood filling his lung. "Drink, Stefan," she begged. He tried again, but he couldn't get it down. He pulled himself over on his side and heaved up his own dark liquid. "Stefan!" Katherine shouted.

At that, the door flew open and Jeremy entered, eyes wide and flanked by his sister. The two took a moment to study their surroundings. Scared, Jeremy evaluated each body – living and dead – trying to rationalize what was happening. Elena, who partially understood the circumstances, gasped. She left her brother's side immediately to join Damon. Her breath came out in panicked gasps and tears filled her eyes. His body was already colder than it should have been. His eyes were unseeing. The life was gone from within him. Jeremy went to his uncle, the last relative he had besides Elena. The last person he had to take care of him.

Katherine stood, braced for another fight with the youngest Gilbert. He stood too, putting himself in front of his sister. "You're who the council is searching for," he said. It wasn't a question.

"No, and Elena knows that," Katherine said.

Elena did know that, but she didn't know what to make of it all. The sight of four dead humans and one live vampire wasn't convincing her at all that this woman wasn't guilty. "What happened?" she sobbed finally.

Katherine looked to the window. The sun would rise soon, as would the staff. She needed to go. "I don't know," she said honestly. "Giuseppe attacked Damon and that's when he brought John to the room. Stefan must have overheard and come to see what was happening. They accused him of being a sympathizer and John attacked him."

"A sympathizer for what?" Jeremy frowned. He was only fifteen. The council made him wait outside of their meetings and would only tell him so much. For so long, he had desperately wanted to know what he was scared of and now the monster herself was going to tell him.

"Vampires," she said. "I was only trying to protect Stefan." She turned to look down at him. He was only a body now, but she had been feeding on him regularly. He would rise again. Nonetheless, it hurt to see him like that. Somewhere deep down in her chest she felt the dull pain of sadness that had been long buried there.

Katherine could see Elena slide her hand around Jeremy's arm, but she realized it was not to hold him back or to comfort him. Her other fingers remained secured around Damon's as well. She was supporting herself.

"What will we do?"

"They'll come back," Katherine said. "Stefan and Damon are not lost, but we have to go. A carriage is waiting." She was right. Down below, Emily waited nervously.

Elena looked to Damon longingly, but it was Jeremy who spoke. "My uncle?"

"Gone," she said coldly. "There was no saving him."

From behind them, she heard Giuseppe move just slightly. His heartbeat picked up significantly, but he lay with his eyes closed as though he were still unconscious. He didn't have a weapon any longer, but his presence was very dangerous for Katherine. She dove at him, knocking Elena and Jeremy out of the way in order to snatch him up by the collar. His strength was nothing to hers, but he grasped at her neck anyway in an attempt to subdue her. "Succubus," he choked.

"Not quite," she growled.

"I won't let you leave this house," he said, struggling against her. "I let you in and I can ensure that you won't get out."

"You forget that I'm the faster one. I'm the stronger one." Her grip tightened around his throat.

"You won't be able to make it out of here with both of those boys. You won't be able to turn them both into monsters."

"You killed both of your sons, and you call me the monster?"

"Damon was not my son."

She froze at that, as did Jeremy and Elena. For once, a human had caught her off guard. She released him and he fell to the floor with a thud.

"You would just cast him off like as stranger?"

"He was always a stranger," he said, looking defiantly up at her. "In the first year of our marriage, my wife left my house to stay with her sister while she was ill. She lived in another town, but they were so close and she was so heartbroken, that I allowed her to go. It is my biggest regret. Her stagecoach had been attacked and robbed as she was coming home. I was grateful she returned to me alive until she admitted things the robbers had done to her."

Elena cast her eyes down, but Katherine never for a moment looked away from Giuseppe.

"I forgave her because I loved her, but it wasn't long before we became aware that she was with child. It became hard to touch her after the accident. That's how I knew it wasn't mine." He looked at Damon with disgust. "I never understood how she could love it so much. I am a good person. I wasn't going to let it starve, but I never thought she would make me keep it in my own home. I humored her, treating him as my own to protect my image and hers, but he was never my boy. It became even harder to tolerate him when Stefan came along. He is my true heir."

"Was," Katherine said through her teeth.

Giuseppe looked down at his hands. "Stefan always looked a little like me, but Damon was made in the image of his mother. The sicker she got, the harder it was to even look at him. And once she was gone… what was my use for him? All he could bring me was pain." He paused then, holding in a sob. "I never intended for things to be this way. Once Damon was gone at war, I thought everything would be as it should…

Katherine wanted to rip the limbs from his body. Of all the cruel and unfeeling men she had known in her life, Giuseppe Salvatore deserved every bit of anger she could serve him, but she resisted; she had bigger things in store for him. She shoved him back into the wall once again, his head hitting it so hard he was unconscious once more. She turned to face Elena and Jeremy again. "Will you let me go?" she asked.

Elena was ready to let her leave with Damon in tow if it meant that he would come back to her. She would have driven the carriage herself if it would have helped. Jeremy, however, looked at her nervously. "How can I trust you?"

"I only came here to protect you both. I haven't done anyone any harm."

It occurred to Elena that her words were not entirely true, but she still pleaded with him, "Let her go, Jeremy. Please."

-23-


	24. The Change

**Part I**

**Chapter XXIV**

**1865**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

It had been months since that night. That night being the one where only two Gilberts lived, and the fate of one Salvatore was still very much in question. Jeremy was the man of the house now, although he and Elena were still residing in the now eerily quiet Salvatore house while their own was still nothing more than a pile of wood and brick. He was still so young, as was Elena, and it was only because of their family's great wealth that they were allowed to stay. None of their neighbors who had once been so close to their family had even volunteered to take them in. Not with the scandal surrounding their involvement with vampires. Three men, one woman, and a handmaiden were all missing. Damon's room still evidenced the events of that night. Even with the sheets cleaned and the floors scrubbed, there were still bloodstains soaked into the walls and cracks in the floor. No one entered the room now.

Dinners between the siblings were quiet. Each of them sat on opposite ends of the table, quietly clinking their silverware against their plates and avoiding one another's eyes. They kept to opposite ends of the house. Jeremy buried himself within Giuseppe's office, digging through everything he and John had compiled on vampires. He had been inducted into the Founder's Council only days after the incident. They forced him to drink vervain in order to prove he wasn't a vampire. Elena was forced to drink as well, although she was not told why. She buried herself in thoughts of Damon, always watching out a window in hopes that she would see him walking up the path one day. He had never come back to her, as Katherine had promised.

It was February, and the cold had settled into the ground. It snowed every now and then, but it was always freezing. Even when she sat by the fire, Elena could not escape the chill that made her limbs shake and her teeth chatter. On especially frigid days, she liked to imagine Damon coming back to her in the summer, bringing with him the warmth that evaded her shelter and her heart. Thinking of him pained her, but she knew he was out there somewhere. Katherine had promised.

 

 

When Damon awoke, he was surprised to find himself away from his bed, out of his home, and most distressingly, apart from Elena. It took a moment for him to remember where he was, but it all became clear when he looked down to his torn and bloody shirt. His father's scowling face came to his mind's eye and he remembered the struggle. His father had called him a monster. He had taken a stake to his own son's heart.

Damon stood in a panic, pulling the shirt over his head and throwing it into the quarry. His chest and abdomen were clear of any of the wounds that had previously ailed him. No bruises, no stab wounds or bullet holes, just flesh. He felt quite unlike himself. The sun already hung high in the sky and it made his eyes want to sink back into his skull. There was a pounding in his head and a scratching sensation at the back of his throat. He was hungry. He was also very scared. He didn't remember anything after the altercation with his father. All he knew was that he should be dead.

Perhaps I've gone to heaven, he thought. There were trees surrounding him on each time, the peaceful babble of water in the quarry, but there was no one else. Yet this could not be heaven without Elena, so perhaps I'm in hell.

He was not in an unfamiliar place. This was the quarry by his home. He spent many of his days here with Stefan when he was younger, so he made up his mind to go back. He walked wearily down the path, keeping his eyes down and away from the sun. He only stopped when he thought he heard someone calling his name. Elena?

He turned back, picking up his feet so that they were sprinting over the rock and gravel. He heard her call his name again, only it wasn't her. When he arrived back at the quarry, it was Emily who was waiting for him. She held a horse by the reins. "How do you feel?" she said when he got close enough.

He shook his head. "I look well enough, but I don't think I am."

She smiled at him, handing him the reins. "Your brother and Katherine are waiting for you in Grove Hill."

"And Elena?"

"You shouldn't worry about her now. She's safe."

He nodded, but he wasn't convinced. Grove Hill was in the opposite direction of Mystic Falls, but he wondered if he could just circle back around when he was out of Emily's sight.

"Damon," she said, looking him deep in the eyes. "It's important that you go straight to Katherine. Do not stop. Do not talk to anyone. She's at Grove's Inn; it's right on the outskirts of town. Go there and I promise you can see Elena later."

"Why can't I see her now?"

"Because it's important that you don't harm anyone. Please, do as I say. It's for the best."

He looked down at the reins in his hands, wishing she would give him a better explanation, but he knew if she wouldn't give one, Katherine would.

"Go," Emily said. "You don't have much time."

When Damon came up on his brother and Katherine at the Inn, he felt ill from being shaken around on his horse for so long. He could barely find the strength to pull himself off of the beast's back and into the relief of shade. His insides felt as though they were vibrating and he looked as though he would jump out of his own skin if someone made an abrupt movement around him.

Although he expected to find some comfort in seeing his brother, he realized he was mistaken when he first laid eyes upon him and the woman who looked so much like Elena. "Brother," he breathed, sinking to the floor against the door behind him.

Stefan sat up too quickly, too stiffly from his chair by the fire. He no longer wore a bandage around his neck as he had before. There was a bounce in his step; an effervescence bubbling within him, and not even the sight of his struggling brother pulled him down from wherever he was. He came to Damon's side instantly, helping him onto his feet and into the bed nearest them. "Careful with him," Damon heard Katherine say. "You're stronger than you know."

"I was worried," Stefan admitted. "I didn't think it smart to leave him at the quarry, but he's back!"

"Emily was there to take care of him, Stefan. You know you can trust me."

"Of course," he smiled.

Damon tried to remain still through their conversation, but something in the room was distracting him. Inside, he felt a buzz within his muscles as though some unseen force wanted them to move. It was a smell, he realized. One he recognized too well. He began to struggle against his brother's arms, his head whipping around wildly in search of the source, but Stefan was stronger than he remembered. When they would play and wrestle out in the yard, Damon's strength always greatly surpassed Stefan's, and rightly so; Damon was twenty-one, four years his brother's senior. Now it was as though Damon's body was locked under the weight of a great stone, one that would outweigh their best cow, or maybe a hundred of them.

Damon didn't care. All he knew was that somewhere in that tiny, dimly lit room with the curtains drawn was that someone inside of it was bleeding, and for whatever reason, he needed to see it.

"Why must he struggle, Stefan?" Katherine put a hand on his shoulder. "He knows what he wants. Let him have it."

Damon's pleading eyes met his brothers, but he couldn't find the words to express just how much he wanted to be free from his grasp. "Please," was all he could muster.

"Shouldn't we explain what's happened?" Stefan breathed.

Damon turned his head to face Katherine. She lifted her fingers to gesture to someone unseen to him. "Come here, pet."

A shadow swept across the room as it passed the fire and stopped next to her. It was his father, he realized, yet he wasn't as shocked by this as he was by the all consuming desire to tear into his throat when he saw blood dripping from it and onto his clothes. A fire lit in his belly and he struggled harder. "I waited for you," Stefan said. "I didn't want to finish him off without you, so I only took a little; just enough to complete my transition. Katherine thought it would be poetic."

Giuseppe didn't respond. His eyes looked straight ahead as though they were unseeing, his arms hung limply at his sides. "Go on," Katherine said, nudging him as if they were old pals. "You're son is hungry."

He did as he was told, approaching both of the boys and leaning forward just enough that they could get at his neck. Stefan watched Damon intently as he leaned closer and closer to the blood. Every muscle in his body ached in the direction of the sticky substance, but he wasn't sure why. He still didn't understand. "Drink," Stefan ordered, but Damon hesitated still. "If you don't, you'll lose Elena forever."

 

 

Elena hoped Damon was out there somewhere, alive even if she couldn't see him, but she never knew he watched her. When the moon was high in the sky and everyone had put out the lights in their rooms and gone to sleep, Damon would slip quietly through the yards of Mystic Falls and up the tree closest to her window. It reminded him of a time long ago when he would pull himself up onto the balcony of the Gilbert house and deliver her letters he had written. Now, she was much farther away, only a sliver of her arm and chest to be seen by the light of the moon. Her breathing was slow and steady, and she was safe because he would be there to protect her from anything that came in the night.

Katherine was very strict with Damon and Stefan during their first months after transition. She withheld their rings that she claimed would allow them to see the sunlight once again. She spent the long days teaching them how to coerce humans and how to appear like them.

"Don't forget to breathe," she said, and the boys both instinctively inhaled deeply. It had been a long time since either of them did so, they realized.

She was stringent when it came to feeding. They were still in an unsafe situation. Grove Hill was a much larger town than Mystic Falls, and they had no clue whether the town's obsession with vampires was anywhere as frenzied as it was in Mystic Falls, if it existed at all. They had to exercise care in everything they did. They were not allowed to kill, but Katherine was not such a fool to think that there wouldn't be accidents with two new vampires.

So far, Damon had shown great control considering his insatiable blood lust. He quickly mastered the device of compulsion, feeding on someone for as long as their pulse was strong enough to keep blood flowing freely into his mouth, and then sending them on their way. It wasn't as satisfying as when he could feel their blood flow ebb until finally their body was still and their heart stopped, he realized, but he was unfailingly careful, still. Katherine made it clear he would not be able to see Elena until he could control himself, and he knew very well why.

Stefan on the other hand, was not so easily subdued. He'd been incredibly volatile from the second he felt his father's life leak out of him and into his mouth. He'd drained him so completely, that even when the heart no longer aided him by pumping blood into his mouth, he continued to feed on the already stale blood. When he finally stepped back, he realized he'd fed so vigorously, he'd snapped his father's neck. By the new year, he'd already killed three people by accident. Most notable was a little girl, no older than seven, with curly blonde ringlets and innocent blue eyes. He claimed he hadn't even intended to feed on her until she fell and scraped her knee.

Katherine was vexed with him - with both of them, really. Damon was never supposed to be in this picture. He was a lovestruck idiot, but he would have produced an heir with Elena, continuing her line. Now he was an obstacle. He was no longer a suitable option for Elena, yet they would not stay away from each other. There was no doubt about that. Now she faced the choice of killing him or driving a wedge between the two, somehow. The only thing that kept her from sending him straight out into the sunlight was Stefan. He would never forgive her.

As for Stefan, they could never move on from this place and live the life she envisioned if couldn't even control himself around a little girl's scratched knee. His moods were mercurial. He was distraught over his father and in the next second he was on the floor laughing. His sexual appetite was never satisfied, and he and Katherine were often on edge, waiting for Damon to slip off into the night when they wanted some privacy.

She worried they would spend so long in the same city waiting for Stefan to grow out of his capricious behavior that they would get caught. She needed to get rid of Damon, but she feared that the second he had his freedom Elena would be too vulnerable. She finally decided she would allow Damon his protection from the sunlight while she still stayed in Grove Hill. This way, she would be close enough should Elena need her help, and hopefully, Damon's control would falter for just a moment long enough to scare her off. It was a risk, but she had no other choice. Her only comfort was that if some horrible fate did befall Elena, she still had Jeremy to carry on the line. He was not her preferred choice, but he would do all the same.

Damon watched his home from a distance. It was early; the sun was still far from rising. He'd been aggressively warned to avoid Jeremy. "He's involved with the council," Katherine had said the day before. "He's wary of vampires and you can't trust him to keep your secret."

He was so desperate to see Elena that his body shook, but he was also very apprehensive about approaching the home. "Every Salvatore who laid claim to that house is dead," Katherine explained. "Nothing can keep you out, even though you're not invited."

"But our uncle will arrive to claim the estate soon," Stefan reminded him. "Then you'll be locked out again."

Now he worried that his uncle would be waiting for him behind the front door. His uncle Zachariah, who some called Goliath and who made his father appear as though he sipped morphine throughout the day. Even with his newfound strength, he questioned whether he would be able to stand against the man.

He sucked in a nervous, and completely unnecessary breath, running at full speed to the door. He was there in a second and even though he was nervous, he knew he could not loiter outside. He stepped over the threshold without a problem, and ascended the stairs without a sound. He wasted no time looking around, going straight to Elena's room and closing the door behind him. A black dress she had worn the day before lay on the floor. He thought it odd that it hadn't been put away, but it became clear why when he saw her face.

She slept still, her eyebrows drawn together as though she were having a bad dream. Deep circles shadowed her eyes and her mouth was turned down at a hard angle. Without his newfound sight, he wouldn't have noticed that her nails had been chewed down to the quick. He could smell the dried blood that was caked under them. Her hair was a mess of curls, some falling into waves. Half of it was up and half of it was down. She must have sent her handmaid away before she got ready for bed the previous night.

These things were all unimportant though, as he focused on her heartbeat and tried to ward off the feeling of circulation being cut off from under his eyes. Something was off. He could hear her heart collapse with a thud, pushing blood from its chambers, and then fill up again with another thud, but then there was a third sound that threw off the steady beat of her pulse. A third and much quieter thud. He focused hard and all the thoughts of bloodlust drained from his body as the color did from his cheeks. It was the sound of another heartbeat.

-24-


	25. Culprits

**Part I**

**Chapter XXV**

**1865**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Damon ran. He wanted so badly to linger, to wake his love and to see her face when she realized he had come back to her, but the dissonant sound of two heartbeats chased him from the room. The sun had still not crossed the horizon, but the blue light of morning had spread across the yard. How long had he stood there before he fled? He couldn't say. The look of her face was too much in every way; when he finally saw it in person, he was filled with such elation that it scared him. The smell of her perfume was too strong in his nose, no longer bringing the comfort it usually did. The sound of her breath was too heavy, although he had just hours ago been desperate to hear it.

It might have been his imagination, but he felt his body heat up. If he could sweat, he'd be drenched. If he had a heart, it'd be loud in his ears. He sucked in a big breath, but his lungs didn't expand like they used to, and he was left feeling as though he couldn't get enough air. Blood rushed to his eyes and his teeth slid down from his gums. God, he was hungry. He'd fed before he came, of course. It had taken five fully-grown men to appease what felt like famine in his throat, and he fed on five more after that, just to be sure.

It was too much. He felt like he was being attacked from every corner of his mind and body. Every muscle ached, every nerve vibrated.

He fled out of the window before he did something he regretted, unable to look back. He retreated to the woods from whence he came, his feet moving as fast as they ever had. Yet he was still so new at it all. He was too distracted to keep up with his feet and sometimes they would carry him too close to a large tree, and he would stumble over the roots. Sometimes his legs would stop working like he wanted them to and he would slow to the pace of a human. Finally, he just stopped in the middle of the trees and sat on the ground like a child, shoving his face into his hands and letting the panic leak from his eyes and throat.

He couldn't get his emotions straight. Two visions of Elena attacked him from either side. On one, she was standing somewhere in the sun, somewhere that the warmth would engulf her and fill her smile and eyes. Her hair was down, and blowing in the breeze with her skirt. Pulling on her hand was a little boy, looking up at his mother like he had just watched her put the color in the sky. They were perfect.

On the other side was the sight of those men he killed on the battlefield, all piled together. Elena stuck out from the middle of the pile, her hand reaching out to him. Her body was covered in crescent shaped scars and blood covered her clothing and matted her hair to her face. Below her, he saw the hand of a child emerging from under a blue coat. This was his doing, he realized. He turned his back on them, unable to look at it anymore. Elena, the live one, smiled up at him, but smile left her face when she met his eyes. The sun was too hot. It was burning him.

He was shaken from his thoughts by a man, who took his hand and shoved the ring back onto one of his fingers. When Damon looked down, he could see his flesh healing. He must have taken it off in his panic.

"Lapis lazuli," the man said.

"Excuse me?"

"The stone in your ring, its lapis lazuli."

Damon looked down to appraise what he was talking about. It was a gaudy thing, big and blue, with the letter 'S' and his family crest in the center. Emily had stolen them from Giuseppe's room after they fled. Stefan had one that was exactly the same. It allowed them both to walk in the sun – or it would as soon as Stefan was allowed his – but that was all he knew.

"I have one as well," the man continued, holding up his hand. Indeed, his finger housed a large stone that matched Damon's.

It took a moment for Damon to comprehend. "You are –"

"A vampire."

Damon took a step back. Katherine had not instructed him on what to do if this happened. He was still trying to settle down, but this man put him on edge.

"My name is Frederick, and you are Damon Salvatore."

He nodded even though it wasn't a question.

"I've been keeping a close eye on you," he smirked. "Your father heads - headed - the Council. Seeing how you ended up makes me assume that I don't have to worry about him anymore."

Damon looked to the ground. "You are who they are searching for?"

"Me? No, not quite. Although I do have a vested interest in the one you speak of."

At that, another figure came out of the darkness. Unlike the man before him, she looked more like Damon. Her eyes flicked around her like she was ready for an attack at any minute. Her muscles were tense and her teeth clenched together. "Damon Salvatore," she breathed.

He knew her face. She had gone to church with him since he had come Mystic Falls. She was one of the missing girls. "You're Bethanne."

She nodded. Nothing about her had changed, aside from how jumpy she was. She'd always been like a mouse, Damon remembered. She was five years his senior and still unmarried before she went missing. He'd heard people speak ill of her because of that. "You're dead," she said finally, after a long moment of appraising him.

"As are you."

She turned to Frederick, smiling at him sweetly, and for the moment, shedding her fearful demeanor. "I would disagree," she said.

"She discovered me in the woods," Frederick explained. "I was feeding on a deer – just something to give me the strength to make it to the next town. I feared she would expose me, but she never even ran."

"I thought he was God," she sighed, as though a girl musing over her childhood love.

"She offered me sustenance, which I took."

"Love at first sight…"

"We were going to run off together, so I turned her."

"You were the one who killed those people," Damon said to her. It occurred to him that she was partially to blame for the situation he was in now. Irritation struck the muscles in his stomach.

"It was an accident," she said earnestly. "I was still learning to control myself."

"Why didn't you just leave?"

"My sister fell ill, and I couldn't leave until I knew she was better."

"They'll be looking for you night and day now," Damon said. "You should go."

"Not until she's better!" Bethanne shouted, suddenly growing red in the face.

Damon looked to Frederick, confused, but then he understood. Frederick hadn't told her that she could heal her sister for the same reason Katherine hadn't told Elena. They couldn't afford any more vampires running around and causing trouble.

"If you don't go, they'll catch you. They're learning more every day."

"Then why haven't you gone?"

The sound of those heartbeats came back to Damon's ears. "I couldn't go even if I wanted to."

 

Damon took another week before he went to see Elena again. Katherine had become ever more restless in their tiny room at the inn after she learned of Frederick and Bethanne's presence in Mystic Falls. They put Jeremy and Elena at risk, and now that they knew that Damon had turned, it was all too possible for them to tell someone else. She was becoming too traceable.

"You need to say goodbye to her," she said, her face made of stone. "You know she can't come with us. Not with Stefan this way. It will be better if you end things now."

He never planned on going with them, but he agreed anyway. In reality, he planned on deserting the two as soon as they left. Whether Elena wanted him or not, he would always be there to make sure she was safe. He would always be there to make sure his child was safe.

Conversely, Katherine never intended to spend the rest of eternity with Stefan and Damon. She only needed to get him as far away from Elena as possible.

"We won't stay here longer. Not even Stefan's appetite can keep us from moving on. Do you understand that? You need to tell her goodbye."

He shook at the thought as he approached her room once again. This time, he was ready. He knew that the sound of life coming from Elena's body was his, and instead of worrying, he discarded any negative thoughts. It was so easy to forget the burden of fear. Now he couldn't wait to see her. Nothing would ruin it this time.

She slept as she had last time, although her room had acquired a significantly larger amount of clutter. He had to pick up his feet in order to avoid stepping on any of the black garments littering the floor.

He sat on her bedside, brushing a lock of hair from her face. She woke suddenly, snatching his wrist with a gasp. There was a moment of silence between the two. Elena sat for a moment, trying to decide whether it was a dream. His arm was solid beneath her fingers, but she couldn't hear him breathe. He looked so out of place. His spine was too stiff, his gaze too piercing. If it were really him, wouldn't he be happy to see her? Wouldn't he be smiling? Now, he looked fearful and restless.

She fell back down to her pillow and covered her face with her arm, a sob escaping her throat.

"Elena?" he asked, rubbing his thumb over the hand that grasped his. "Why are you crying?"

"You're not real," she whispered. "You're not real. You're not real."

She said it so intensely he wondered for a moment if she was right. "What do you mean?"

"Don't torture me like this. Don't show me your face if you can't be real."

He smiled a little, slipping his free hand under her back and pulling her upright. She looked at him with dark, questioning eyes. She had dreamed this so many times that she wouldn't allow herself to believe, not yet. He brought his lips to hers slowly, wary of the spike in her heartbeat. He shut his eyes and forced himself not to think of it.

When they pulled away from each other, Elena brought her hands to his face. He was there, right in front of her, right underneath her fingertips. She felt the sharp line of his jaw, and dragged her thumb over the smooth curve of his lips. Something was different about him. There was a fire that emitted from within, but his exterior was cool. "Where have you been?"

"To hell."

She thought of his dead body, lying stiffly on the bed. "Really?"

"Anywhere without you is hell, my love."

She rolled her eyes, but a smiled spread across her face like a long dry river being replenished by the rain. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled herself close, throwing him backwards so she lay on top of him. Then she was kissing him all over; on the square of his jaw and the corner of his smile, on his eyelids and the tip of his nose, down his neck and on the tip of his collarbone. She was all around him, and now, the sound of that tiny heartbeat warmed him. She couldn't know, of course. Or could she? He grabbed her face so she would be still, searching for any sign of panic, but there was only happiness. He couldn't tell her now, not yet. He couldn't tell anyone.

Instead, he brought her face back down to his, kissing her lightly at first. Then, like a switch flipped in his brain, he kissed her as deeply as he could, for he could no longer restrain himself. In a second, he had rolled on top of her. Her eyes widened at the sudden speed and strength he possessed, but there was no fear in them. Only excitement. Only love.

He crashed down on top of her, too roughly, perhaps. He was like an unavoidable wave, but she just continued to swim, letting the swells pull her to the bottom of the sea. He wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her as close to him as possible and kissing down her neck and onto her chest. "Damon," she gasped. He smiled at the encouragement, but that wasn't her intention. It was becoming hard to breathe. She could feel the pulse in her fingers and toes from being squeezed to hard.

He could hear the blood pumping through her veins just a little louder now. Trying to hide his face, which he knew would scare her, he buried it in the hair by her neck. "Damon," she said again, this time a little more desperate.

Her voice didn't reach him. Now there was only the beating of her heart and the thin veil of flesh that separated him and what he wanted. Somewhere inside of him, a voice warned him against it, but it was easy to quiet it. He wrapped his mouth around her neck, bracing his teeth against her soft skin, but was pulled from his trance by the sound of a guttural yelp and the crack of bones.

"Damon," she cried one final time, tears falling down her face. He sat up, releasing her from his grip. She looked up at him in horror and he tried to focus on calming himself. A jagged breath shook her body and she grasped at her ribs. "It hurts."

-25-


	26. A Lapse

**Part I**

**Chapter XXVI**

**1865**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Panic flooded Damon's brain all at once. The agony in her eyes scared him, and he was even more pained to realize that it was he who caused it. How loud had she cried out? Could she have awakened her brother? He couldn't remember; it was all happening too fast. His mind jumped to the baby for a moment, but he couldn't hear the tiny heartbeat over Elena's loud one. The sound made it hard for him to hide his true face, but he didn't want to upset her anymore. She had already seen it once.

He drew in a deep breath, focusing himself. Gently, he lifted his leg back over her body so he wasn't sitting over her anymore. He wiped the tears from her cheek, trying to calm her as though she were a child. "I'm so sorry, my love."

Her eyes flickered to him for a moment and then closed again in pain. He knew what he had to do. In whiskey-soaked memories, he could see Katherine's bloody wrist dripping over his mouth, and in clearer ones he could see her digging her finger into his stomach and then feeding her blood to him. He could do the same, but he wasn't quite sure how. "I'm going to fix this, all right? Be still. It isn't good for you to move." She gasped in response.

He observed the skin of his wrist, drawing his teeth out. It should have been so simple, but it was so unfamiliar to him. He winced at the pain of his teeth sinking into his skin, but it was a minor irritation compared to what he was expecting. He hardly felt it at all, really. The little holes in his wrist were small, only yielding two little drops of blood. What if it isn't enough? He brought his arm up again, this time biting into it as if it were someone he intended to kill. The holes grew into a crescent shaped pool of blood, each of his teeth making a mark in his skin. Again, it hardly felt like a pinch. He held his wrist to her mouth.

"Drink," he ordered, and she did. Her body was stiff with her arms locked firmly at her side. After a minute or two, they relaxed and the pain left her eyes. Damon withdrew his arm, which was completely healed, he noticed.

He sat guiltily and quietly, waiting for her to speak. "I didn't know you were one of those," she said, her eyes still closed. "I thought Katherine was going to save you."

"She did." He took her hand in his. "See? I'm here."

She couldn't find the words to speak again. A moment ago, she had been so sure it was him, and now? She was never sure if she could trust Katherine, and now Damon was just like her. He'd almost crushed her, and without having her guard up, he could have killed her.

He took her face in his hands and kissed her so lightly she almost wasn't sure he was there, and then once again, this time with more fervor. "Please, Elena, I'm so sorry." Her eyes were full of distrust when they met his, but there was also tenderness there. Her expression put a sick feeling in his stomach. This isn't how it's supposed to be, he thought. He took a moment, weighing the consequences of what he was about to do, but he couldn't stand her looking at him like that for one more second. "Don't think of it anymore," he said slowly, although he wasn't sure if he was doing it right. Katherine said he could make anyone do anything if he only looked into their eyes and simply wished it. He wished for nothing more, and his eyebrows were stiff in the middle of his forehead as he focused on her irises. "It'll be as if this never happened. You know that I'm a vampire, but I would never hurt you. You don't have to be scared of me. Do you understand?"

She shut her eyes again, as though she were processing everything he said. When they opened, all of the tension in them had bled away. She wrapped her arms around his neck and the smile came back to her face.

"Why did you stop?" she sighed.

He paused, unsure whether the compulsion had worked. "What do you mean?"

Pulling his shirt back just a tad, she raised her head up to kiss the sliver of exposed skin. "Why did you stop kissing me?"

Everything was right in the world because she didn't even remember. His lips returned to her neck and chest, although he was far more controlled this time, never for a second allowing himself to get lost in the way she gasped or giggled. He couldn't afford to. Now there were only the sounds of her heartbeat and the child's that made up for his missing one. He placed a hand over her belly, which she thought odd, but it felt right to have it there.

The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs put an end to it all. Damon stilled, and urged Elena to be quiet by putting a finger to his lips. Before she could ask what was wrong, a knock came on the door. Elena sat up nervously, but Damon was already wriggling to get under the bed. "Send them away," he said before ducking his head back under.

She kicked her way through the floor full of garments, only allowing the door to open a crack when she got to it. "Good morning, Miss Elena," Damon heard someone say. It was a woman, her maid, most likely.

"I'm not feeling well," Elena said brusquely.

"You weren't feeling well yesterday either. You haven't been feeling well since John's accident." Damon wondered if that's what they were calling it now.

"I just want to rest today."

The voice was growing more and more exasperated. "You need to eat something."

"Later, perhaps."

There was a moment of silence between the two and then the door closed. Damon didn't dare come out until Elena's footsteps came back to the bed and she was reaching under to pull him out.

"We need to go," he huffed, his hair tousled from being rubbed against the bottom of the bed.

Elena, completely calm again, sidled up to him. "What do you mean?" she purred. Damon thought back to the time when there was still just a stiff tenderness between the two. Had they really been so distant once? It wasn't so long ago that he could only hope that she would lean her leg against his underneath the dinner table. Now, he knew every curve of her. The tips of his fingers had run over the planes of her body a hundred times; they'd walked every path and climbed every peak. She leaned into him with the ease and trust that she had never before felt with anyone, not with her mother or brother, and certainly not with her father. Damon felt a pang of guilt for a moment when he realized that the comfort he saw in her eyes was not her own. Still, he was all too pleased when he saw how easy it was to shoo that feeling away, instead soaking up the sunlight in her gaze.

"We can't go now," she said, slipping her fingers into his and leaving a trail of kisses up his neck. "We've only just begun to settle in."

He thought for sure he would melt. It would only take the whisper of her breath in his ear, the feeling of one more kiss lingering on his skin long after her lips had parted and he would be reduced to a puddle on the ground. Before that happened, though, he stood back, leaving her looking at him with confused eyes and a frown. "Elena," he began, weighing each word carefully. "You know I can't stay here, don't you?"

She only looked at him sadly. It was answer enough for him.

"You know that things can't be as they were, not in Mystic Falls."

Her eyes turned to the floor and she slowly receded within herself. Visions of a future without Damon flashed before her eyes, yet no tears came to her eyes. Her emotions had been so tampered with, they all bled together now. Stress whirled around in her stomach and she feared she would be ill in front of him.

Hearing the jump of her heartbeat, he came to her side, reaching down to take one of her hands in his and brushing the hair from her face. She looked up at him with eyes made of fear and a mouth taut with distress. After a few moments, he found her eyes. "I can't make you do anything," he paused then, realizing his mistake. "I won't make you do anything. I only want to give you happiness, and if that means I have to leave you behind, I will do that for you."

Her eyes grew wide and she opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off before she could.

"You could come with me, though."

Silence, then. A hundred questions passed through her eyes, but she was so shocked, she remained silent. What about Jeremy? What about her home? Her mother was here, as was her father. She'd never known anything else.

"I'd like very much for you to come with me," he said quietly. "I'd always take care of you. I'd protect you. If you grow tired of me, then you can leave, but if you'd like to stay, I'd never leave your side. Even when you've grown feeble with age, I'll carry you in my arms.

Because you will still be young and strong, she thought. Again, her body felt differently from her mind. Nervousness tingled in her spine. "Where would we go?" she said finally.

"Everywhere," he smiled. "We'll explore the world, and when we've seen everything, we'll take to the stars."

She laughed at that; it had always been a source of fascination for her. "What will we do for money? For food?"

He hesitated, deciding it was best to leave his dietary habits out of this conversation. "I can make things happen, Elena. Anything you want is yours."

He wasn't lying. All she wanted was Damon, and he was standing right in front of her, offering her the world in the palm of his hand. All she had to do was take it. She thought of what would happen if she said no. He would leave and she would go on as she had, living her life looking out of windows waiting for the boy next door to walk up the path. Until she married, she would live in the distrust and distance of her brother, then her husband, who would no doubt have heard the rumors of her involvement with vampires. She would have as many babies as her husband liked, and it would hurt to look at them when they were missing the part that was supposed to be Damon. Not to say she wouldn't love them. Like so many mothers she saw growing up, her children would become the center of her universe. She would hover around them and focus on them so everything around her was a blur. Then she wouldn't have to deal with a husband whom she could never really love.

The path in which she said yes was much foggier, but Damon was at the end of that path, and that was all that mattered wasn't it?

"What about Jeremy? Could we come back and see him one day?"

He couldn't guarantee that. "If that's what you want."

She looked at him for a moment longer before turning to the desk next to her window. She pulled out a sheet of paper and began writing hurriedly. The ink of the pen dripped and splattered along the page, but she didn't bother getting a fresh sheet. Her body sat in his line of sight, but as she raised the letter in a neat square, he briefly caught a glimpse of her messy handwriting. 

_All of my love and more_ , 

**Elena Gilbert.**

-26-


	27. Sharing

**Part I**

**Chapter XXVII**

**1865**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

The thing about sharing blood with vampires is that it's cohesive. A vampire taking blood from the same living source, the same soul, bonds them to that person, and even more so when they give their own. This isn't some oddity only displayed in vampires who become overly attached within a minute of meeting someone either. This is a hard fact every vampire can and will fall victim to.

Any human is good to feed on, no matter their taste or their looks, and a vampire proves that by going through so many in such a short time. Feed, kill, let them live - none of it matters as long as there is fresh blood making its way to the heart. It is different, however, when the same veins sustain a vampire for a long period of time. Like a child at the breast of its mother, a vampire develops deeply rooted attachments to their source of life.

Generally, this happens when a vampire falls in love. The emotions have become so strong, and love, lust, and hunger are so hard to distinguish from each other that they become the same thing. Though vampire and human relationships are rare and often short-lived, it is even rarer to come upon a couple who do not co-mingle like parasite and prey.

It is very rare that a vampire shares its blood with a human. The erotic and animalistic nature of these beasts leads them to activities such as feeding on one another, especially during sex. The elevation in mood and stimulus combined with the carnal knowledge of the other being who shares the same strength, emotional vulnerability, and euphoric pleasure drives many to treat blood sharing as a drug. With humans, though, sharing blood is a much greater risk. Those vampires who are aged and well versed in the nature of their kind know the risk of feeding a human blood. One small thing goes wrong and suddenly they risk exposure from some insignificant fledgling who can't control himself. Not only that, but blood is the last living part of a vampire. Without it, the creature is truly dead. Some instinct deep within a vampire tells them to part with it sparingly. They still do so for many different reasons. Some like to recreate the intoxication of blood sharing. There are a few who are aroused by the sight of a human enduring the high. Others, deeming themselves some sort of dark heroes, do so in order to help those in need. They will roam war camps or hospitals waiting for someone who is worth saving. Mostly, however, their blood is used to cover tracks. Those feeding on someone they don't intend to kill will return the favor in order to avoid exposure.

Damon Salvatore had a mix of these habits. When he and Elena originally left Mystic Falls, they avoided any trouble longer than one would expect. When they arrived at the inn in Grove Hill late at night, Katherine and Stefan immediately detected something wrong with Elena. Stefan couldn't even stay in the room. Though he had displayed better use of self-control in the last weeks, the sound of two heartbeats in one body proved too much for him. He promptly excused himself to find someone more appropriate to feed on.

Katherine was furious with Damon. He had taken her niece away from her home without her permission, and worse, impregnated her. In her rashness, she threw him against the fireplace, breaking his arm and leaving a significant dent in the sturdy brick. She vowed to take Elena back as soon as Stefan returned, but as they waited, she began to think about it. In this situation, everyone got what they wanted. Elena was happy, Damon could live, and more importantly Katherine would have an heir.

She briefly considered the possibility of Damon harming either Elena or the child, but quickly decided it wasn't possible. He was too soft, even as a vampire. He could protect Elena and the child, and as long as he didn't harm her while pregnant, then everyone would be happy. All she had to do was keep an eye on them both, and maybe kill Damon if he became a problem in the future.

Instead of sending Damon away, then, she decided they should relocate to the next town over in case there was a search for Elena. Reluctantly, Katherine allowed Damon and Elena to stay in their own room next to hers and Stefan's. Stefan had finally earned enough trust to get his ring, and he and Katherine spent most of their days and nights in town, looking for mischief and perhaps a bite to eat. When they returned, Katherine would anxiously go straight to Elena to ensure she was well, and she always was. Elena was forbidden to be out of her room after dark, and if Damon ever made Katherine doubt even for a moment that he couldn't control himself around her, he would be removed, so to speak.

He had no problems in the beginning. They continued on as before, although slowed by the process of Damon learning to control himself around her. They spent every possible minute together. He would tell her what it was like to be a vampire and for whatever reason, it didn't upset her. She would read to him and soothe him when his emotions became overwhelming. He learned how to touch and caress her with his newfound strength. She learned when to tell him if his grip was too tight. They made love. They laughed. They were together, and that's all either of them wanted.

Elena was so infatuated with her new life that she wore the ring Katherine gave her on her ring finger, and when they went about town, they would introduce themselves as a married couple. This began only after Elena learned she was pregnant.

She didn't see the signs until late. When she grew ill at the same time every night right after the sun went down, she only thought it was something she ate at first. This went on for weeks until one night, while she lay in bed after a bout of especially horrid vomiting that she gazed down at herself. Her body was still long, and her legs were still lean, but there was something about her belly that looked different. It protruded slightly as though she had been eating very well, which she had. That and her breasts had grown and were often so tender that she forbade Damon from touching them. She'd never been told outright the symptoms of pregnancy, but she'd heard bits and pieces from friends and ladies around town before.

Stefan and Katherine were out, as always, as was Damon, who spent most of his nights feeding. She looked around at the dim and empty room, which was quiet except for her own nervous breathing, and she was suddenly overcome with loneliness and fear. She sat up as she broke into a confused sob, wrapping her arms around her barely-there belly and cradling it.

It took a hearty effort by both Katherine and Damon to calm her down when they found her. First came Katherine, who stumbled in with Stefan early in the morning. They were drunk on wine – or perhaps drunk on someone who was drunk on wine – but Katherine sobered immediately at the sight of a tear-soaked Elena. Stefan went to their room, avoiding Elena as usual, but Katherine came to her side and put her arm around her in an odd display of affection. She'd hoped to wait a little longer to talk with Elena about it, for fear that something would go wrong and Elena would be unable to face it, but there was no time to put it off now.

She gave Elena a lesson on what was happening to her body, warning her about what to expect and what she could no longer do as a pregnant woman. She told her stories of what it had been like for her so long ago, when times were very different and medicine wasn't as advanced. The talk, though informative, simply left Elena more shaken and fearful than she was before. She woke up that morning thinking babies came from mother's belly buttons, but she went to sleep with a much different image in her head. Damon was next with his sweet words and reassurances. He lay back with her on the bed, nuzzled his face in her soft hair, and she tried to ignore the stench of blood on his breath.

It was Emily who eventually reassured her that everything was going to be fine. She had not been staying with the four since they deserted Grove Hill. Elena wasn't actually sure where she had been hiding, but every time Katherine needed something, Emily was there. She let herself into the room, cautiously sitting next to Elena on the bed. "How are you, Miss Elena?"

Elena looked down at her still growing belly and began to sob again. She had been doing that a lot lately. "Well," she squeaked. "Thank you."

Emily smiled gently and took her hand, rubbing her thumb over it. "Don't be sad, child."

Their eyes met and Elena wondered at how beautiful Emily was. She couldn't be older than Katherine, so it was a wonder she thought 'child' was the appropriate way to address her. Then again, Elena had only just learned of Emily's dealings with magic. Perhaps she didn't age just like Katherine. "I'm not sad," she said finally.

"Then why do you weep?"

The tears rushed forward again. "I don't know."

Emily offered a handkerchief, which Elena took gratefully, dabbing under her eyes. "I think you do." There was a moment of silence between the two and Elena glanced at the door. "They're gone," Emily reassured. "You can speak freely."

Elena nodded, taking a minute to choose her words. "Do you think the baby will be like Damon?"

"He's the father, isn't he?"

"Of course!" Elena scoffed. "I just - I won't know how to feed him if… he's like Damon."

"Oh, dear," Emily smiled sadly. "There's no need to worry about that."

"You're sure?"

"I promise."

Elena let out a deep sigh, wrapping her arms tighter around her belly. Of course, she wanted the baby to be a replica of Damon. Boy or girl, she wanted it to have his smile and his eyes. She could picture a little raven-haired toddler running around in a grassy yard somewhere while they looked on. She would have loved it even if it did have a predilection for blood, but it comforted her to know it wouldn't.

Emily took Elena's hand and placed the palm against the lower half of her belly, holding her own hand directly over it. "A baby is the purest thing in this world, Miss Elena. Did you know that?"

Elena shook her head no but kept her eyes down at the hands on her belly. It grew warmer the longer Emily stayed there.

"Fire destroys, water decomposes, and air is filled with the dust of the earth. But a baby's soul, its humanity, is untouched. Do you know what corrupts it first?"

"What?"

"Love, then happiness."

A smile came across Elena's face, she liked that thought.

"You called it a he, you know," Emily said.

"Did I?"

Emily nodded.

Elena closed her eyes and smiled. Perhaps she did want a boy, another little Damon, or perhaps she knew, deep down inside, what it was. Mothers were supposed to have intuition after all.

After that, Emily came to visit Elena often. She would keep her company when everyone was out feeding. They spent hours together talking or reading, and when Elena had a question about the baby, Emily would answer, no matter how embarrassing it was.

Elena was happy with things once again. She loved to flaunt her pretend-husband around town, talking with the ladies in the shops about baby names. When they came home, they would plan their actual marriage. They'd talk of where they wanted to end up and what color they would paint the walls of their home. Damon's favorite thing was to place his head on her stomach and listen to the sound of its heart. It calmed him, reassured him this was where he was meant to be.

His eating habits became problematic not long after their departure from Grove Hill. Something about Elena's pregnancy made her even more alluring than usual. The changes inside her made her skin smell different. Her breasts had grown swollen and ripe, and her skin was taut around her body. She was glowing and succulent and he couldn't seem to keep himself away her. She didn't mind. She might have been even more ravenous.

One night, when she was especially bothered by Damon's absence, she stayed up late, reading one of the many books that he had give her. She glanced at the clock on the wall repeatedly, hoping time would pass more quickly. He came back early, though, and she immediately saw something was wrong. "Damon?" she asked nervously.

He smiled gently. "Stefan and I had words. I wasn't in the mood to see him anymore."

She opened her arms and he joined her on the bed, falling into her embrace. He smiled inwardly at the warmth that surrounded him. "Words about what?" she asked.

"I thought he wasn't being careful enough," he sighed. "At first I thought he was dancing with a girl, which is strange, because he's supposed to dance with Katherine, but when I got closer I saw his face buried in her neck."

Elena ran her thumb over his jaw, hugging him to her. The stories of their assaults on the unsuspecting townspeople didn't make her uncomfortable anymore.

She could smell the blood on his breath like always. Perhaps it was the baby inside of her, but something about it comforted her now. It was sweet in her nose. Usually it was just something she ignored, something she couldn't understand.

Her lips made their way to his slowly. She wanted to distract him from his exasperation, she hoped to cheer him up, and what's more, she wanted to taste him. Before, she had avoided kissing him after he fed, for fear of the taste and the idea of it all, really. Now, she pushed against his mouth softly, and he smiled against her lips. She liked the taste of him like this, she realized.

After a moment, she swung her leg over him, so she was on his lap. Katherine had warned that her self-control would be all but nonexistent in her condition, but it was worse than that. She ached for him. She held his face roughly to hers and his hands circled over her back, yet she could feel the reluctance in them. She pressed harder against him still, rubbing herself against his body. His resistance was feeble.

He stifled a moan; something wasn't right. He hadn't fed enough and he could feel the veins strain and vibrate under his skin at the feel of her pulsating against him. Each time her heart pumped he could feel the blood rush though her body, right beneath her skin, right against his. When she pulled away to kiss his ear and down his neck, he realized his true face was showing. Elena mustn't have seen, or she didn't act as if she had. This was a problem every time they were together, but it was worse now that he hadn't eaten his fill. He grabbed her by the arms and tried to push her back, but she wasn't so easily deterred.

"Damon," she breathed, and it was so quiet he might not have heard it without a vampire's ear. The sound sent shivers down his spine as he rubbed his hands up the skin of her legs under her gown.

It occurred to him that he might need to leave and feed after all. The thought came a second too late because Elena was already pushing back down against the soft covers of the bed. She was kissing him again, her eyes closed and her hands roaming as they liked, but Damon could still feel the blood rushing to eyes. If she opened hers for just a second, she might never want to look at him again.

Only a second passed after that before he lost control. It was all because of the poorly – or perfectly, if you prefer – timed combination of her whispering some sweet thing in his ear that no respectable girl would have ever even thought as she dragged his hands down to the place between her legs. He couldn't control himself then. He wanted her, and any vampire who wants, needs. This wasn't something he could walk away from. Not now. He flipped her on her back, and when she opened her eyes the sight of a monster met her. She'd seen it before, but it was a shock nonetheless.

She reached up and touched the skin of his face with childlike fascination, finally looking without fearing. "You're beautiful," she breathed.

Damon felt chills spread down his back and guilt slide up his throat. She could accept him, he realized. His nature didn't have to a barrier between them. It didn't have to be an elephant in the room, but his mind was cloudy and she was in his nose and all around his body. He struggled with the temptation for a moment longer, and his breath was heavy because he knew he would regret what he was about to do. It was inevitable.

"Elena?"

"Damon," she purred and, God, her voice sounded like music. It was that same voice he heard when he cried himself to sleep at camp and again when he almost died on the battlefield.

"I'm very sorry about this."

Her eyes were questioning for a moment, but she quickly realized what he meant when he went for her neck. He burrowed his face there, and what was at first a pinch became a burning, throbbing, inescapable pain. "All right, Damon," she said calmly. "Enough."

She didn't understand that Damon wasn't there any longer. Her hand wrapped around her belly as though she could protect the little one inside and she struggled under him. "Damon," she was firm now, verging on panic. "Stop!"

"Just a little more," he growled.

Tears filled her eyes and she struggled harder. "Stop! Please!" she begged.

He pulled away then. For a moment, he just allowed her blood to run through his system. What was it about her specifically that made her blood so good, so sweet? He didn't care. All he could do was revel in the warmth that spread through his system, all the way down to his toes and up to his brain.

Frenzy replaced his nirvana when he saw her face. She turned her face away from his, grasping at her neck and stomach. Tears had already begun to wet the pillow under her. He dismissed his own distress easily and now he was calm. "Elena," he said sweetly. "I'm so sorry, Elena. Look at me."

She looked up at him with the same distrust in her eyes as when she first found out he was a vampire.

"Just forget all about this, darling." He dug into his wrist with his teeth. "Don't be frightened. Everything is fine."

-27-


	28. Plans

**Part I**

**Chapter XXVIII**

**1865**

**? - Virginia**

Elena inhaled deeply, taking in the warm air with a smile. Spring would be coming to an end soon, and she cringed at the thought of walking around in the heat once summer came. It felt good now, though. A breeze shielded her from the sun's stronger rays, but she was warm enough that she could feel her feet and hands. In the past months, she'd noticed that they were so cold that they grew numb. A doctor they had long since left behind told her it could be a symptom of poor circulation, but nothing to worry about. She didn't think of it again.

Since the love of her life died, perhaps even earlier, Elena had struggled with her faith. Before, she was known for her devotion to the church, but she had grown hesitant. It occurred to her that it was because love made her selfish. When Damon left, she asked God why. When he was gone for months and months, she prayed every day that He kept him safe. When she learned of Damon's injury, she began to doubt His kindness. When he was dead, and she looked into his eyes that were cold and blank, she didn't see God. She didn't see the Devil either. She saw nothing. Once Damon had returned to her, though, she began to feel guilty. Damon had come back to her, and in the end, all was well. She knew it was time for her to return.

Around her, men, women, and children went this way and that. All of them, including her, had just finished at church, and now they were busy socializing and making plans. Elena didn't know a single one. She sat quietly on a little bench outside the door. Damon still hadn't come back yet to escort her home. He had to leave early, with Stefan in tow, when they both found that sitting in the small room packed with bodies was much more distracting than they thought. Katherine hadn't come, of course, so it was up to Damon to ensure that his brother had made it a safe distance away. The thought of leaving with them crossed Elena's mind, but she decided she needed to stay. She couldn't keep up with either of them anyway, and her presence would only overwhelm Stefan.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Damon approaching from far away, but even at this distance she could tell he was itching to run in that way he did. He was like a child with a new toy. He wanted to run and use his new strength so much that he felt he had no use for walking like normal. He had no choice here, though.

She stood and laid a hand on her belly, which was much bigger now, though Katherine said she was still far from done growing. As she began walking toward him, she could feel his agitation grow. His hands twitched at his sides and his smile was forced. He hated for her to walk alone, for fear that she would grow exhausted without his arm to lean on. If they were alone, he would be at her side in a moment, but they weren't, and someone was always watching.

Admittedly, fatigue did begin to creep up her legs and seep into her lungs the longer she walked, but she smiled anyway, trying to keep her breathing steady. Finally, when they were just close enough and he couldn't bear it anymore, he did run – as fast as a human could, anyway. It made her laugh to see him in such a hurry. "Darling," he sighed, relieved when she was at his side. He snaked a hand around her back and wrapped the fingers of his other around the hand on her belly. She smiled widely, as she always did when he was around, and he placed a soft kiss on her cheek, allowing his lips to linger there for just a second too long.

"Are you feeling well?" she asked him.

"I'm fine," he said, rolling his eyes. "I could have lasted the whole service, but Stefan was behaving strangely. First, his fingers began to twitch, and then he stopped breathing altogether. I thought it best he left."

"I'm glad you removed him." She was. Only a few weeks after he earned his daylight ring, he lost it. Even though Katherine wouldn't say anything, Stefan eventually told Damon she had caught him in a brothel. Anyone who was still living when she discovered him was just barely so. They had to flee much farther and quicker than normal that time and Stefan lost his ring for a month. Damon had tirelessly dedicated himself to keeping him under control ever since.

"I thought he'd be embarrassed if I said something, so I told him I was uncomfortable."

"You're good to him."

"He's my brother." She took his arm and they began walking down the beaten path. "What about you? You sound tired."

She smiled at him a little. Worry covered his whole face. "I'm always tired, my love."

"I just wish I could take the burden off of you."

"It'll be worth it," she said, gazing down at the bump under her gown.

He grew giddy then, as he often did when they spoke of the baby. "How is she?"

"She?" Elena laughed.

"You've taken to calling it a 'he', I just don't want it to feel pressured in either direction. A little Elena running around wouldn't be so bad."

"You couldn't handle two of us," she smirked.

"And you believe two of me would be a walk in the garden?"

She squeezed his arm tighter and leaned her head against his shoulder for just a moment. "As long as I have you."

"What should we call it?"

"The baby?" she asked, turning to look at him again.

"Yes."

"I always thought we could name the first one after my father if it's a boy or your mother if it's a girl."

"The first one?"

She stopped dead in her tracks and heat rose to her cheeks. She hadn't even thought about what she was saying. He held his hand out to her, his eyes sympathetic. He could feel her heartbeat pick up and her face was tight as though she were holding back tears. Elena cried a lot now. Katherine had told him it was his job to be there for her. He wasn't very good at it at first, but he'd figured it out after a while. She just needed a little coaxing and soothing, and she would be fine. It would be harder this time, he realized, because her tears weren't from breaking a bowl or tearing her dress; these were the tears she would have shed at his funeral, had he needed one. "I-" she started but the words didn't come to her. Tears threatened to escape her eyes now.

"Come," he said softly. "We'll get you some dinner."

As they walked in silence, Elena thought about what she just said. She had honestly never considered that this would be her first and last child by Damon. This would be the last time she felt like this. In her dreams, they had a bounty of children. Now she was down to one. Church was still on her mind and she thought about how she should be grateful she was having a child at all. I'm lucky, she assured herself silently, but the thought didn't ring true. Feelings of grief that were still muted from Katherine's compulsion battled with the grief for all of her children she would never have, for the life with Damon that she would never see.

She let the tears flow freely. By now, she knew there was no use in trying to stop them. Damon held tightly to her hand, stroking his thumb over her fingers. "Lily or Grayson?" he said, finally.

"Hmm?"

"You said you liked the names Lily and Grayson."

She nodded, sniffling a little.

"I love them."

"You do?"

"They're perfect."

She smiled a little, willing the tears away, but they just kept coming.

"Whether one child or one hundred, it will always be enough for me." He stopped her then and put a hand over her stomach. "This is us, Elena. Whether we have one or one hundred, I'll be happy still. All I need is you and her."

"Him," she joked, trying not to cry, but it just came harder. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. "I love you," she said, muffled by his coat. She held on to him tightly and as she inhaled him she thanked God for the hundredth time that he was by her side. Perhaps she wasn't so distanced from her faith after all.

When they finally returned home, which was just another inn where they stayed (free of charge, of course), Damon kept his word and brought Elena some food. First, he helped her up the stairs and out of her Sunday best, putting her gently into bed and fetching her book from across the room. He gave her a small kiss on the cheek before going to find some food. While she ate and read, pretending not to notice the aching in her feet, he went to check on Stefan, who looked like a dead body sprawled out on his bed. Technically, he was.

"Brother," Stefan said, sounding exasperated. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Control yourself."

Damon chuckled, sitting on the bed next him as he sat up. "It's ironic isn't it?"

"What?"

"You were always the stiff one."

Stefan laughed. "If only I were now."

"It takes time," Damon assured. "It becomes easier the longer you deny yourself."

"I'm just so easy to persuade, and even worse, I'm easily persuaded."

"I'll be here for you, Stefan. We have a whole lifetime and more to figure it out."

Stefan smacked his brother's shoulder in thanks before standing up to pour himself a glass of whiskey. It was the good stuff. Stolen a couple of towns back. "How is Elena?"

"Drained, as I expected. She's eating now."

He nodded awkwardly, handing Damon a glass and taking his own into his hands. "Speaking of draining and eating the women in our life…"

"Not now," Damon said rolling his eyes.

"Humor me!" Stefan laughed. "Katherine lovesto be bitten, I was just wondering if it runs in the family."

Another trait Stefan lost in death was his tact. Whatever subtlety he had in life was long gone, or hidden behind his blood lust. Now, he thought it was funny to make people squirm from his words. It was a trait all vampires possessed deep down, but Damon had a better sense of discretion. "You know I don't know that, brother." His voice was tight, partly because of his brother's behavior, partly because he was lying.

"You haven't even thought about it?"

"Of course not."

"It'd be easy, you know." He knew. "You could just compel her to forget, or better, compel her to be willing."

Damon couldn't even look Stefan in the eye. Had he really grown so cold? "You make me think I can't trust you around her."

"You probably can't," Stefan shrugged. "I can't be trusted around anyone, these days."

A low snarl rose in Damon's throat at the thought.

"Worry not. I'm only teasing." He finished his glass and poured another. "I wish Katherine were human some days."

"If she were, we wouldn't be here."

"I like to think her blood would be sweet like candy. As feisty as she is, I'd have to fight her for it."

"I'm betting she would win."

"Against a vampire?"

"She's smarter than you, smarter than us all. You'd end up with a stake in your heart."

"Perhaps I'd be better off that way."

The thought stuck with Damon as he made his way back to his room. Some days it was like his brother had never even existed and some monster was walking around with his face. His heart felt heavy in his chest. Elena had fallen asleep; her book lay open and facing downward on her belly. She still had bread in her hand and little crumbs on her chest. He smiled, tucking away thoughts of his brother and taking the bread out of her hand and putting it back on the plate at her bedside. Her breath hitched and her eyes fluttered open at the movement. "Oh, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

He smiled and sat at her side, wiping a little crumb from her cheek. Her smile was embarrassed. "You needed the rest."

"It's too early to rest."

He nudged her arm and she scooted over a little, allowing him to crawl up next to her and settle into her warmth on the mattress. His hand settled in his favorite spot on her belly as she pulled the covers up over him. This is where he wanted to be for the rest of his life. "Sleep a little longer," he said softly. "We'll go to the theatre tonight."

"I'm a grown woman," she pouted. "I don't need naps."

"Won't you do it for me?" he said sweetly.

"I'm not tired," she said, turning to him with a mischievous eye. "Perhaps you could wear me out?"

Could he say no? He didn't stand a chance as she leaned over him and kissed him deeply on the mouth. Stefan's words rang out loudly in his mind. He turned her over so she was on her back and he could feel her sliding her gown up over her knees. Her legs shook as she wrapped then around his waist, hugging his pelvis to hers.

Guilt simmered in the back of his brain as he struggled to keep his normal face. He knew feeding on Elena was wrong, but he could still taste her blood if he thought about it. He didn't want to keep that secret from her. He didn't want to take advantage of her. She struggled under him, trying to pull him closer, but his body remained rigid on top of her. He knew it would just take a moment of weakness and he wouldn't be able to resist.

"What is wrong, my love?" She took his face into her hands and forced him to look at her.

He took a moment to compose himself, pasting a gentle smile on his face so not to worry her. His hand found its way onto her neck, resting just above her jugular, and he could feel the blood rushing in and out. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just tired."

She frowned, slowly detaching herself from him. The lust drained from her cheeks and now they were pink with embarrassment. "Oh."

"Don't be upset," he said with a smirk.

"Of course I'm not."

"You're pouting."

She sat up, forcing him to the side. He lay back on the pillows, rubbing her back. "I don't pout," she said, hugging her knees to her chest.

"Then I must be blind."

"You are!" she blurted. Her apologetic eyes found his as she turned to face him again. "You can't see how much I want you, Damon." Her hand slid up under his shirt and her nails dragged against his skin softly. "I think about you all day." She took his hand and placed his palm against her cheek, kissing his wrist softly when it came close to her mouth. "You're in all of my dreams." He sat up, never taking his eyes off of her. "You're inescapable." She kissed him, and though she looked like she was in some other world, he never even shut his eyes.

"Elena..."

"I can feel you slip away sometimes," she said. "I can't keep up with you anymore."

"That's not true."

She pulled herself up and swung her leg over his body so she was sitting in his lap. "Sometimes I think I should just give you my blood. I know how much you want it."

He tried to blink the red away from his eyes, but she was kissing his neck now, leaving her neck and shoulder totally exposed to his mouth that was open from drawing in ragged breaths. He realized she knew exactly what she was doing, but he was completely at a loss.

When she came back to face him, he ducked his head away from her. She pushed his chin up to face her again, staring straight into his eyes, which looked like a monster's now. "Don't hide," she said quietly. "Don't be ashamed of what you are. I know you would never hurt me."

It was his turn to blush now because he already had.

"I just wish you could want me like I want you. I wish you didn't have to restrain yourself."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she smiled, kissing the veins that stood out under his eyes. "Don't hide yourself from me. If you need me to back away so you can take a breath, tell me."

"You won't be angry?"

"I can find a way for you to make it up to me later," she smirked.

What Elena didn't know – and Damon was all too aware of – was that he had began to feed on her regularly. Instead of doing as she asked, he would just let the desire wash over him. Sometimes he would struggle with the guilt for a moment, telling himself that it was wrong, but Stefan was right: it was so easy to convince himself otherwise.

It wasn't a problem for Damon until Emily came to visit Elena one day. It had a few weeks since they had seen each other. Katherine had sent Emily away on one of her secretive errands, but she went to see Elena the second she got back. Immediately, she noticed something amiss, but her smile never faltered. Elena looked happy, ecstatic even. Her smile was almost as big as her belly, but something was certainly wrong. Damon sat in the chair next to her, his leg crossing in front of her as if to draw a line for any potential predators who might come close. He is an animal after all, Emily thought. She tried to pay him no mind, as she did with most vampires, but something about the air in the room was off. Too cold, she thought, or maybe to warm. She wrapped Elena in her arms upon approaching, stepping over Damon's leg and swallowing delight at his discontent. "Emily!" Elena squealed. "You can't know how I've missed you!"

"It's been too long," she agreed. "Look how big you're getting!"

Elena smiled down at her belly, knotting her hands together on top of it. "Won't be long now."

Emily's hand reached out towards it to feel, and she could have sworn she heard a snarl in the bottom of Damon's throat. Not even the polite and charming Salvatores could avoid becoming territorial madmen once they transitioned; it was in a vampire's nature to be that way. It wasn't until her hand reached its goal that she became concerned. Instead of the heat that usually met her there, she was met by an ice cold chill and the vision of a crow. Something was wrong.

-28-


	29. Death

**Part I**

**Chapter XXIX**

**1865**

**? - Virginia**

It ended with the cold. First, there was the barren wind blowing under Elena's skin and grazing Emily's fingertips every time she reached out to pet her big belly. Then there was a chill that washed over the town with a layer of ice that frosted the trees and grass. As Elena moved closer to the hearth, with her big smile lit up by the fire and Damon watching fiercely, protectively, all the sweetness had almost gone out of him.

Then there was silence. First, from Emily, who looked on helplessly, waiting to strike at whomever was hurting Elena. Fear kept her tongue still, though. Elena's body had grown frail. Any stress would only put more pressure on her and the baby. That, and things were growing more tense as each day went by. As Elena grew weaker, Damon and Katherine grew more domineering. Elena was the only one of them who smiled anymore. No matter how tired she was, she was always able to reassure Katherine that visiting yet another doctor wouldn't be necessary. She would still laugh and talk with Emily, and she had even begun reading with Stefan as she used to.

When Damon was anxious, and he often was, she would lay his head in her lap and stroke his hair. She would hum quietly until his eyelids grew heavy and he was filled with the sound of her voice and the baby's heartbeat. Until one day, he wasn't. Elena had been very tired that day, but she stayed up late just for Damon and although he entered the room with a smile on his face, it quickly fell away. Something was off, he knew, but Elena looked normal enough. He entered wearily, crawling onto the bed and nestling against her belly as always, listening for any signs of danger. He spent so much time listening to the sound of footsteps going by their door that he didn't realize what he wasn't hearing. There was Elena's voice, sweet like honey and light as a feather, her heart pumping slowly as she began to fall asleep. Then he heard it: he heard the quiet coming from inside her. He turned his head into her and shut his eyes, listening and listening. There was nothing.

There was blood after. Only a little at first; it would stain Elena's gown and Emily would quietly help her change, allowing her to cry for as long as she needed. It was like that for a week. Occasionally, Elena could feel something move in her womb and she would jump up, crying for a doctor who would only tell her what she already knew. She finally delivered a week later, and there was so much blood that she only saw red through the sweat and agony.

And once again, it was quiet. Elena said nothing, spending her days staring out of the window in her room. The phantom of sadness was all she could feel, her memories long compelled away. She watched the day go by and wondered why she was empty. She felt the happiness that Damon had put in her head, but to her, it felt like a horse that had been shot in the leg, struggling to stand, unable to run. Her body was different now, too, and she couldn't explain why. She didn't understand the sad look in Damon's eyes or the indifference in Katherine's. What had she missed? What was she missing?

She sat there so long that Emily finally decided to take her away. It wouldn't be easy. First, she had to get her past Katherine, and then Damon, which would be the real fight. Since the baby, he never left her side. He only left the room for moments at a time to feed on the man in the room next to theirs. He was like a feral dog. No one could come to close to her.

"Being here isn't good for her anymore," Emily said, and even with the spell protecting their conversation, her voice was low.

Katherine sat across from her, calmly sipping on her tea. She took a moment to respond, weighing Emily's words as she smoothed her skirt over her lap. "Where do you expect her to go?"

"I…"

"Mystic Falls would burn her at the stake for her involvement with vampires. I hear it's worse than Salem now."

"Of course, but what if…"

"And I cannot trust Damon to be alone with her."

"Damon will not be coming with us."

"No?"

"I do not trust him."

"He will follow that girl to hell if he has to. You think you can outrun him?"

"That's why I need your help."

"I want her here, with me. I can watch her that way," Katherine said, shaking her head.

"You are more alive than she is in this state," Emily said, her voice rising. "Let her go or she will never be any good to you."

Katherine's lips spread in a thin line, the secrets between the two women hanging thick in the air. "Tread carefully."

"I am indebted to you, but Elena is my friend. Let me take care of her."

"It's not up to you to set the terms of your service, Emily."

"You need her, Katherine."

"I have Jeremy."

"I hear things about Mystic Falls, just as you do. The Gilberts are accused of being long-time sympathizers and that poor child is the only living whipping boy that town has. Victoria Donovan's father pulled her out of the marriage. Lord knows he'll be lucky if he never sees the gallows, but you know it too. You need Elena, and she is useless to you as long as Damon is around."

There was a moment where Katherine said nothing, biting her cheek. "What am I to do, then?"

"I can keep Damon subdued with magic, but not for long. You can pretend that you are searching for her too, and take him in the opposite direction."

"You expect me to drag him along forever?"

"Once we've gone far enough, it doesn't matter what you do with him."

"How do I know you aren't just going to run?"

"I have not given up on finding my family, Katherine. We have an agreement, and I have not gone through all of this for nothing."

Just as Emily and Katherine planned to separate them, Damon was pulling Elena from her chair and into his arms. Gingerly, he set her down on the bed, covering her with the heavy blankets and brushing the hair from her cheek. "Elena," he said, just above a whisper.

"Hmm?"

"How are you?"

She smiled, though never looking at him in the eyes. "I'm well enough." Again, confusion clouded her eyes and she wondered if that was true.

"Will you look at me?"

She did and her gaze softened, "Are you all right?"

"Just worried about you."

"As usual," she joked, but neither of them laughed. "Did something happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"I do not feel right, Damon. I feel you are hiding something from me."

"I am not hiding anything," he said. "Do you understand? You are tired from our travels, that is all."

"We've been carrying on so long," she agreed.

"You are healthy and happy," he went on.

"I've never felt better," she said, and when she smiled, he believed it.

Still, when they lay back together, his face nuzzled in her hair and her head leaned against his, he couldn't help but stare at the bones in her hands which looked like mountains rising underneath her skin. Her face was gaunt and her eyes were sunken. She was still too weak to feed on, but he wondered what it would do to her if she fed on him. Knowing the risk, should Katherine find out, he bit the inside of his own wrist and offered it to her. "Drink," he ordered, and she did. He hadn't fed on her since before she had given birth, and Emily had been very strict about not feeding her vampire blood after the pregnancy. It's not natural, she insisted.

He allowed her to drink for as long as she liked. For a moment, he worried that it would not work, but then her grip around his wrist tightened and her breath sped up. For the first time in a long time, the tension in his chest dispersed and he smiled. It was working.

A knock came at the door just as the clouds cleared from her eyes. Damon ripped his arm away from her mouth, her teeth smashing together in response and panic rising on her face. She didn't understand the trouble they could get in, the trouble he could get in. In a panic, Damon ripped the pillow from behind his back and shoved it in her face, mopping the blood from her lips and his wrist. "Lie down and forget this happened," he ordered.

He was surprised when it was Emily waiting on him at the door. She looked at him warily, as she always did, with her hands crossed over her chest. "Katherine would like to see you," she said, not caring to address him. "She and Stefan are going on a hunt and they would like you to join them."

He turned to look at Elena, who already had more color in her face than she had in weeks. She was calm, blissfully unaware, while Damon could feel the adrenaline buzzing in his fingertips. He grabbed his coat and kissed Elena on the cheek. He was uneasy at leaving her alone, but besides him, there was no one she was more comfortable with than Emily. There was no one besides him whom she would be safer with than Emily.

Once he was gone, Emily shut the door quietly. Without saying anything to Elena, she grabbed a heavy trunk and dragged it to the center of the room. Inside was a mix of Damon and Elena's things, all thrown together haphazardly after months of travel. "What are you doing?" Elena said, standing to get a better look.

"Trust me," she said, pulling all of Damon's things from the trunk and throwing them on the bed. "I'll explain later."

"Are we leaving again?"

"Yes."

"I'll help pack," Elena said sweetly. Across the room were more trunks, all bigger and filled to the brim.

"Those will only slow us down. Pack only what you need."

"What about Damon's things?"

She paused. Only sedation would be able to convince Elena to leave if she knew Damon wasn't coming and she had no time to waste explaining why that wasn't going to happen. "He's coming with Stefan and Katherine tomorrow."

Concern arose in her eyes, along with something else Emily didn't recognize. There was color in her cheeks and her face looked fuller. Her hands seemed to shake a little and then Emily finally spotted it: a single drop of blood that had stained the bright yellow collar of her dress. There was no time for questions. She moved faster, ignoring Elena's questions and frantically shoving things into the trunk.

Then they were gone, fleeing into the night with the curtains drawn on their carriage windows. Elena was on the brink of hysterics, tears running down her face and staining the fabric of her gown. Shaking, she turned to Emily for an explanation. "I could have said goodbye, Emily. Why didn't you warn me?"

"Quiet," she hissed, assessing her neck in the dim candlelight. The skin was smooth, free of bites. It was odd; she looked better than she had in months. Her hair felt soft and she sat straighter, but she couldn't sit still.

"Emily," she begged, "please, tell me what's going on."

In another universe, Elena's death might have been much different. Perhaps it would have come later or perhaps it would have been on her own terms. There were many days when she thought of what her death would mean. Damon was frozen in time now, and there would come a day when she was too old and gray to continue on with him. She imagined he would look after their family once she was gone, but that was when they still had a family. She had considered asking him to change her, of course, but that was never something she wanted. She watched Damon, along with Katherine and Stefan, struggle with the hunger. She'd watched their humanity falter time and time again each time they went out to hunt. She'd lived in fear of being caught even though she was still human. That was never something she wanted.

Yet her fate was sealed the moment Emily gently took her hand and looked into her eyes. The night was quiet except for the clamor of the carriage's heels and Emily's low voice as she explained the bitter details of a history that had been long unfolding since before she or her mother or her mother's mother were even a thought.

Katerina Petrova was born in the warm summer months almost four hundred years before she arrived on the Gilberts' doorstep. She was loudly happy even as a child; too flirtatious and too outspoken. Nothing, not her father's rage or threats could keep her from being who she was. She enjoyed flirting with her father's rich friends, and receiving secret gifts from them. She kept all of trinkets in a trunk at the foot of her bed, buried beneath old toys, until one day she was left with a gift that she could not hide. Each week her belly grew a little bigger. She had brought shame on her entire family and in return, her father locked her in her room. He kept her there until the baby was born, and just as she reached out to hold her daughter for the first time, he smashed a pillow over its face until its crying stopped. After that, it wasn't more than a week before Katerina, who began calling herself Katherine, found herself banished to England and without her family. Alone she was, and without hope of ever feeling safe again.

As a vampire, she found a way to protect herself forever. Nothing and was stronger than she - not the man who raped her and not her father.

She had been dead 30 years before she had the strength to return. First, she visited her daughter's father and ripped his head from his shoulders. Then she visited her own father, and when he thought he was being confronted with an apparition, he admitted all of his sins. This is when she learned that her daughter lived, and from that moment on, Katherine dedicated herself to finding her daughter, her true family - the one who would never leave her. Nadia Petrova was the image of her mother in flesh and spirit, even though they never met. Nadia's daughter, Anastasiya, was still young and innocent in the ways of the world when Katherine came into her life, and she wanted nothing more than to be with her family. She had already missed her daughter, and she wasn't going to let her granddaughter slide away so easily. That was how she lived the rest of her unlife, protecting her bloodline, and surviving, just as she always had.

Katherine didn't cross paths with Emily Bennett until 1860. It was almost perfect that they came upon each other when they did. Katherine was desperate for a witch to protect her, as she had just killed the last one. Emily was desperate for someone as well-connected and powerful as Katherine. If anyone could help her find her brothers, it was Katherine, but that wasn't going to happen for free. Emily had to promise her undying service to Katherine for a very long time.

This was the first thing Elena needed to know.

The second was that Petrova blood ran through Elena's veins, but that wouldn't ultimately protect her. When Katherine met Miranda Gilbert for the first time, she was a glowing newlywed with new a baby on the way. Her husband made up for her naïveté with distrustful cunning that made Katherine uneasy. He was going to be a problem, and Katherine knew it, so when their children were old enough, she planned to kill them both. It was tricky disposing of Miranda. It was magic that gave her the symptoms of consumption, and slowly, she was nothing but a shell. Killing her took no skill, but it was not easy, for it was Emily who had to do it. Killing John took no effort; once Miranda was gone, he took his own life. All Katherine had to do was come back into town at just the right time to ensure her newest heirs were safe and healthy.

Emily took no pleasure in telling Elena this. She had grown to love the girl like a sister, and she needed to protect her. This meant confiding her deepest secrets to her right then and there. Elena was not safe with Katherine and they needed to get as far away as possible.

Elena took all of this all of this information with a quiet grimace on her face, but inside, she felt like she was on fire. Damon's blood was running through her veins and all of the emotions that had been buried under compulsion were pulsating just beneath the surface. She wasn't sure if she was going to scream or vomit. Emily put a hand on her shoulder as it began to shake. "Elena?" There was no response besides Elena's eyes moving rapidly around her. "Are you well?"

Elena flung herself from the carriage before it could come to a complete stop, scraping her knees against the ground as the contents of her stomach covered the dirt below her. Emily hurried from the carriage to hold her hair back, looking around to make sure there was no one to witness them. "It's blood," Elena retched. "It tastes like blood."

And then Emily understood. She understood everything. She remembered the vision of the crow when she touched Elena's belly and she knew. It all came back to Damon. It was Damon's blood who had corrupted the baby, and then killed it. She sat back at the thought. Elena was too hysterical to be able to handle this sort of information, but she needed to know. There is no way Damon would have allowed her to keep any of those memories. Before she could make a decision, she was thrown on her back, her head smacking a large stone. Elena hovered over her with eyes like an animal's and blood running down her chin. "You killed my mother," she growled. Emily tried to speak under her grasp but her hands snaked tightly around her neck, unrelenting. They stayed that way, Emily fighting weakly until she wasn't fighting anymore. Emily Bennett was the first person Elena Gilbert ever killed.

The next was herself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-29-


	30. The Awakening

**Part II**

**Chapter XXX**

**1865**

**? - Virginia**

Death is a losing game. Every living thing on this Earth has died or will die, and yet there are some who Death searches for still. Hidden in the dark, they are out of reach of Death’s eye, and live a life stained by the heavy price they pay for their invisibility. They wander the Earth searching for their purpose, feeding on life to ward off their old friend, Death. 

Elena Gilbert’s departure from her mortal life was immersed in water. When she awoke, it was to the rough hands of a stranger pulling her from a river. Her hair had gotten caught on the brush alongside the water. Though her eyes remained shut, she could hear the man breathing hard. She opened her eyes just as he had fallen back, her body completely out of the water. She sputtered slightly, clearing the water from her lungs and the man flinched, surprised. “Ma’am?” he breathed. “Can y’ hear me?”

She sat up slowly, lifting a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun. When she last closed her eyes, it had been dark and cold out, but now it was bright. There were no clouds in the sky and the sun beat down on her back. A cold wind spread throughout the trees and the hairs on her arms stood up. She could feel the light of the sun stabbing at the back of her brain. “Who are you?”

He sat back, slightly affronted by this girl who seemed to have no appreciation that he had saved her life. “Name’s Noah,” he grunted.

He was a big man, she realized. Ugly, too. His face was pale with a long nose that shadowed all of his other features. His dirty brown hair hung in front of his eyes. He stood up to evaluate himself. His clothes were drenched, much to his chagrin, though it appeared that most of the dirt had been washed from his arms. “Who’re you?” he said without looking at her. 

“Elena,” she said.

He stared for a moment. “Well, _Elena_ , d’ya reckon you can explain what landed you face down in a river?”

Cold wind smacked her in the face and she was transported back to the previous night. Emily’s body was in front of her, the smell of vomit and blood was in her nose, freezing tears were running down her face. “I do not remember,” she lied.

He looked at her, clearly annoyed, and offered his hand. She took it gingerly, rising to her feet. Everything about the world was unsteady. There was a ringing in her ears and a pounding in her head. For a moment, she feared she would clear the contents of her already empty stomach right then and there. He steadied her by the elbow and began pulling her alongside him. “Where are we going?” she asked, tripping over a rock.

“Can’ leave you out in the cold lookin’ like that,” he sighed. 

His house was small and almost as dirty as he was. His bed, which protruded into the kitchen, smelled of alcohol and sweat. She sat there anyway as he fetched both of them dry clothes from an old dresser across the room. 

She sat there with her head in her hands. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that the previous night had not happened at all. Had it all been a twisted fantasy that she fabricated in her sleep? No, that would not explain how she ended up in a stranger’s home, soaking wet and confused. 

Noah handed her a tattered pair of pants and yellowed undershirt. “’s all I got,” he frowned. She stood to change, waiting for him to remove himself from the room. But he made no advancement towards the door. “What? Tryin’ta kick me out o’ my own home?”

Her cheeks turned red and her eyes widened, “Oh, of course not. I will just…” She balled the clothes up in her arms and exited out of the door she had entered. She was certainly not in Mystic Falls anymore. 

His home was surrounded by tall trees, which was smart, she thought, for they would slow the wind from coming into all the tiny cracks in the sides of his house. She went around to the side, where a washtub sat as though it had not been used for many months. She set the clothes he had given her on the ground and peaked around once more before undressing. Her cheeks turned a shade of pink when she realized that the water had made her thin nightdress see-through. Thankfully, she had on a long coat when Emily whisked her away the previous night. Hopefully her new companion hadn’t seen anything. 

Her mind wandered as she changed. _Emily is dead_ , she thought. Dead eyes flashed at the front of Elena’s mind and her eyes began to water. She could not make sense of what happened. Who had done that to Emily? Who had thrown her into the river?

She slipped her legs into the pants, but something made her stop. A sound had sent a chill down her spine came from behind her. She looked over her shoulder to the wall of Noah’s house; she could hear breathing coming from behind it. She was filled with revulsion, hurrying to slip on the remainder of her clothes, but when she heard it again, she did not think of the pale man with his face pressed to a crack in the wall. This time, she heard ragged breaths in between sobs. They were her own, she realized. The memory was unaccompanied by sight, only the sound of herself. Misery seeped into her stomach and tears collected in her eyes. Slowly the vision of Emily’s dead face came to her mind again. _I killed her_ , she realized, and her fingers ached from having her hands wrapped around her friend’s neck. She sank down against the wall behind her, burying her head in the stench of her clothes. A sob erupted from her throat as everything hit her all at once. The truth about Emily and Katherine. The taste of blood in her mouth. The sound of Emily’s head hitting a stone. She had thrown herself into the river.

She looked up when she heard footsteps approaching, scrambling to her feet and wiping the dirt from the back of her pants. Noah appeared before her, looking less dirty and more menacing than before. He carried a bottle with clear liquid loosely in one hand. The unpleasant smell wafted all the way over to her. “You comin’?”

She followed without saying anything, and he didn’t seem to mind. “Got some beans warmin’ up,” he said. “Can’ offer ya much more than that.”

“I don’t mind,” she grimaced, she had never felt so hungry in her life.

“’s been difficult since the mines closed.”

“Oh.”

“They caved in, see. Killed about three hundred men.”

“Not you?”

“Slept in that day,” he laughed. “Funny, idn’t? My boss said, ‘Boy, you show up late one more time and I’ll fire your ass fasser than you can say wake up!’” 

She feigned a smile. “That’s lucky for you.”

He laughed again, “Serves that bastard right.”

They were quiet while they ate. Elena spent her time thinking of the night before, wondering how she was going to get back to Damon; wondering how she had lived. It was her desire to die, she remembered. When she stood on that bridge, it was never her intention to return to land. 

Every bite that she shoveled into her mouth was more unpleasant than the last. It felt as though her teeth were on the verge of cracking down the middle, and it became so painful she began chewing her food by mashing it into the top of her mouth with her tongue. The beans were dreadfully bland, made worse by the fact that they were hardly warm. The longer she ate, the more she suspected she would be sick, yet she grew hungrier still. Even when she had cleaned her bowl, a yearning growled from her belly. 

Elena could not determine whether or not she was happy when Noah did not offer his bed to her. It was the polite thing to do, the gentlemanly thing to do, but she was not sure she would be able to make through the night surrounded by that smell. Instead, he handed her a thin blanket and pointed to a rug in the kitchen. Truthfully, she was glad to be away from him. She noticed as she tried to make herself comfortable that Noah positioned himself by the stove in the corner instead of going to bed. With the clear bottle of liquid ever-present in his hand, he stared into the fire with his feet up on a chair. She crossed her arms over her chest. She would leave first thing in the morning, she decided. She just needed to find Damon, and everything would be alright. 

She awoke later to the sound of a small movement from somewhere in the room. There was hardly any light, just enough from the dimming embers under the stove to see the chest of drawers next to her head. She realized it was the bottle that she heard hitting a table. It was silent for a few more moments and then she heard the noise once again. When she peaked up to glance at the chair where Noah had been sitting, she realized he still occupied it, though slightly hunched over now. Each noise she heard was of him, sliding the heavy bottle off the table, raising it to his lips, and setting it back on the table with a loud _thud_. 

She sat up carefully, and her head was spinning. Each bone in her body ached, and she wondered for a moment if she was not severely ill. “Noah,” she whispered. “Are you awake?”

“Been thinkin’,” he muttered.

A chill swept through her spine and she was suddenly very aware of the menace in his voice. “What of, I wonder.”

“You,” he said, his head rolling to face her.

“Was I sleeping too loudly?”

“Quiet as a mouse. Just as helpless too.”

Her body tensed. She would have to pass him to get to the door if need be, and she knew she was not strong enough to get past him. 

“’s locked,” he said, following her eye line. “Don’ ya wanna know what I been thinkin’ about?”

She could not find the words to reply. Her cheeks had grown hot and her hands were shaking. She could not remember the last time that she had not had someone guarding her every move. First by her father, then John, and then Damon. Who would protect her now?

“I been thinkin’ about the way you looked in that river. Lot’s o’ dead bodies been turning up ‘round these parts, so when I happened upon a lady, a real lady, with her bloomers out for the world to see, I’m thinkin’ that I’ll have a real good story to tell.”

“I would have died if it were not for you.”

“See, that’s why I’m curious. You was dead, I know it. You was face down in that water, those pretty curls bobbing up in down. I didn’ save you right away. I watched you for a bit. You looked like a pretty paintin’, not that I’ve seen too many.”

“I do not understand.”

“I wasn’t saving anyone when I pulled you from that river. I was pullin’ a body out because I didn’ want anyone else to find it.” He stood up very suddenly, and Elena yelped before she knew what was happening. “Are you real?”

She stood up slowly, “Of course, Noah.”

“Quit sayin’ my name!” he roared, throwing the chair back as he stood. “Quit trying to make me think you’re real!”

“Please! I am not trying to trick you!”

He lunged at her, pressing her to the wall by her throat. “I’ve heard about your kind. Killin’ people, eatin’ em. See I figured out your trick. You was trying to lure me in, make me pity you so you could kill me.”

“That is not true!” she choked. What little energy she had was fading fast. She realized he was going to kill her. 

“It must be easy for you,” he said softly. “Pretty little thing like yourself just bats an eye and you’ve got yourself breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

“I am not like them,” she insisted. “I am not a vampire!”

He leered closer to her, burying his face in her neck and inhaling loudly. She sobbed, but not from fear. His closeness took her to another time. A voice rang throughout her brain, the same word repeating over and over. Forget, forget, darling, just forget. “Stop,” she sobbed. Then his name just slipped out, and she realized that it wasn’t the first time she had said it. “Damon, stop!”

“My name is Noah!” he screamed into her ear. “What? You gettin’ your prey confused now? Was Damon the last one you murdered?”

All that came out of her mouth was ‘no’, but he didn’t seem to hear her anymore. “You won’t kill me,” he said. “I won’t let you kill me!”

He threw her down then, her face clipping the table that they had eaten at earlier. He fell down on top of her smashing his fists onto every inch of her body. She tried weakly to push him off, dragging her long nails across his face, trying to hit him back. Nothing could stop him. 

Finally, her arms gave out, and she couldn’t find the strength to fight anymore. Her hands hit the floor beside her and she didn’t feel the pain anymore. She wasn’t there anymore. When she opened her eyes there was Damon, and he looked so clean and beautiful like he always did. She smiled and tears poured from her eyes; how long had it been since she had really seen his face? It felt like months, years even. Blood trickled down from the corner of his mouth. “Did it hurt?”

“Not as much this time,” she said, though it felt like someone else was speaking for her. This was a memory.

He smiled, “Are you ready?”

She nodded as he lifted his wrist to his mouth, biting down until the blood flowed feely. Then she was feeding on him, gulping down his blood like wine. Something about the memory was wrong, though. Damon was screaming. He was not supposed to be screaming, and she was feeding from his neck, not his wrist. Something was wrong.

She pulled her head back, the taste of blood in her mouth. Pain spread through her gums like her teeth were going to fall out. When she looked back at Damon, he was gone, and Noah had replaced him, his face contorted with fury. “I knew it!” he yelled, grasping at his neck.

She choked on the blood and the pain grew stronger. Like a crack of lightning had jolted through her body, everything was becoming clear. The mist that had hung over her head for months was dissipating. She was getting strong again. 

She pushed him off, and he fell backwards, his head hitting the stove. Her face was pulsating and all she could see was a man laying on the floor. Rage filled her fingertips and she leapt on him, clamping around his neck once more. 

-30-


	31. The Fair

**Part II**

**Chapter XXXI**

**1876**

**Philadelphia, Pennsylvania**

The sky was leaden, but the city was alight with excitement and the sound of ringing bells. It was the country's 100th birthday and people were pouring in from every corner to witness America's emergence as an industrious world power. Rain had fallen all through the night, but the sky was already beginning to clear and not a soul remained inside. Throngs of visitors poured in through the gates opened as they opened, and among them, three individuals stood apart from the rest.

"Damon," Katherine called. "Do try to keep up."

He looked ahead at her and Stefan, who had paused arm in arm, to wait for him. "Why did we come here again?"

"Don't be a grump," Stefan laughed. "The president is here!"

Damon rolled his eyes. "We were on opposite sides in the war, remember?"

"You were never a Confederate, really," Stefan countered, "and he would not know even if you were. Now, come."

Damon made no attempt to mask his apathy as he moved forward, but neither Stefan nor Katherine seemed to mind. This was the usual arrangement of their outings; Katherine always in the lead, Stefan following closely behind, and Damon watching with a grimace and a snide comment. It was Stefan's idea, odd as it was, to attend the first World's Fair.

They roamed for some time, Damon always a few feet behind. They were on the brink of a new era, all of them watching as the world changed. They rode in a new contraption called the monorail where passengers could ride all around the fairgrounds, enjoying the sights and the sounds. Katherine and Stefan shared a cart, giggling and laughing together. They looked like the youth that shown on their face, not bogged down with all that had plagued them over the years. Damon sat in the car behind him, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. They ate something called popcorn, which Damon hated, of course. They witnessed something called a telephone, the "communication of the future".

Stefan even reluctantly agreed to shell out a whole $1.50 to climb to the top of a statue at Katherine's request. It was only a hand and a torch, made of all copper, but it stood almost forty feet in the air. "Why not compel the man?" Damon huffed. "We never pay for anything."

Katherine rolled her eyes before turning sweetly to Stefan. "It is only the first piece, you see. The rest is in France. Once it is finished, it will be brought to America. Our money will be put to building a base. She will be a very large woman, I hear."

They climbed up a ladder on the inside of the statues arm, emerging from a door in the torch. The fire was made of amber colored windows and lights shown from the inside. Damon stood on the side farthest from Katherine and Stefan. It pained him to see them arm in arm. He could see the whole Eastern side of the fair, hear all of the voices rising up to the sky from where he was. He heard a quiet "I love you" from the other side of the lantern.

"The sun is going down," he called. "Dinner will be served soon."

They returned to the ground below, with Damon in a worse mood than before. Tables were set up in empty spots along the roads. The people were all filtering out of the buildings and into the streets looking for food to purchase. Lights were strung up in the square with the lady's torch lit up in the center of it all. The air was rich with the sound of excited voices and the smell of food. A group had gotten together off to the side, playing their instruments, and dancers had gathered in front of the statue.

The trio removed themselves to a table at the edge of the crowd. "I'm getting hungry," Stefan said, his leg bouncing up and down.

Katherine placed her hand authoritatively on his shoulder. "Patience, darling. I like them when they are fat and sleepy."

When it came to the point where he could no longer wait, Katherine grabbed a young man by the arm as he passed their table and forced him down in the seat next to them. " _Do not make a sound_ ," she ordered.

The two dug in without another word, the crowd swirling around them in happy ignorance. Damon lips tightened into a thin line. He turned his back to them, searching the crowd for the perfect dish. "Damon," Katherine said sweetly, dabbing her mouth with her handkerchief, "aren't you hungry?"

"Not after seeing that, no."

"Go on," she purred. "Find yourself someone to eat. It will put you in better spirits." He rolled his eyes and lifted himself from his chair, not bothering to look back.

There was plenty to choose from. A girl had been making eyes at him from across the way all night. She was a small thing though, short and thin, she was more of an hors d'oeuvre than a main course. Conversely, there was a fat lady who had sat alone for the entirety of her meal. She would taste delightful, he imagined. There was a young man who was arrogant and strong. He would put up a good chase, which was the only thing that brought him any happiness anymore.

Then he saw it. It only lasted for a moment, but it stopped him in his tracks. He had seen her 1000 times since she had died. It was a flash of brown curls disappearing from the corner of his eye. Her laugh echoing in a loud room. The smell of honey and lemongrass in his sleep. Even though it was never her, he never stopped believing it would be. When he thought he saw her face staring at him through the crowd, it was almost impossible for him to move.

The blood in his body sped through his veins. His neck was warm and rigid, trying to keep from panicking. She was walking faster from him now, only daring to peak at him as she turned the corner. He knocked a man to the ground in his pursuit. It had to be her this time, he knew it. She was fast, but she underestimated how desperate he was to catch her. He caught her arm just as she was about to break into a run, and when he saw her face, he knew he must be going mad. Seeing her, he felt as though he was touching the sun. So much happiness filled him at once that he could fall to his knees. "Elena?" he said, his eyes desperately searching her for some confirmation that he was not dreaming.

Her face had not changed from the time he last saw her, though her features had hardened, it seemed. She was a vampire now; he knew it the moment he saw her. Her cheeks were flushed from a fresh feed, and a drop of blood had dropped onto the lapel of her dress. Her lips turned down in a stern frown, even in her shock. A wall had gone up behind her eyes; no longer did they broadcast her feelings from behind dark irises. Her long hair was curly and unkempt on top of her head, but she had done what every vampire aimed to do: blended.

Her face softened for only a moment, as though struck by a memory. She raised a hand to touch his face, running her thumb across his chin. "Damon?"

-31-


	32. The Betrayal

**Part II**

**Chapter XXXII**

**1876**

**Philadelphia, Pennsylvania**

Damon was brought out of his euphoric daze by a sharp smack across his face. Elena still stood before him, but anger had seeped into every feature of her face. She had hit him, he realized. The taste of his own blood was in his mouth. She stood wordlessly before him, a piece of her hair had come loose and hung in front of her eyes. 

It had been many years since Elena had allowed herself to think of him. Not since she was a newly-born vampire, wandering the streets of foreign towns in the light of the moon, feeding indiscriminately and overwhelmingly. 

With each passing step she took, each setting sun, and each dead body, she became more disillusioned, bitter, and removed. Within three days, she could remember everything Damon had taken from her. He had fed on her as she fed on random passerby’s in the street. He had enslaved her emotionally. What had she felt in the final months of her life that was genuine? 

It was on the third day of gaining her mind back that she received the most crushing reminder of all. She relived every moment of her pregnancy that she had no previous recollection. She felt the kicks in her belly. She could remember wrapping her hands protectively around her belly. Then she remembered the red. All of the gowns Damon had gifted her over the many months of running were ruined. She leveled an entire town that night. Maddened by her grief, she fed until she was covered in blood. Fire surround her and she murdered half of the town before anyone was even awake.

The very thought of Damon threw her into a similar rage every time, so she stopped thinking of him eventually. 

Damon grabbed her arm before she could strike him again. “You fed on me,” she huffed, ripping herself from his grasp.

He blinked, surprised. “What?”

Her eyes darkened, and her teeth were bared. “You fed on me.” A rush of memories hit her all over again. 

He could not think of what to say, and his silence fueled the fire inside of her. She turned on her heal and began walking away, but he was not going to let her get away that easy. He had spent the last decade thinking that the love of his life had perished in a river. 

It was the driver that carried her and Emily away that night that had told him the news. When Damon discovered that the two were missing, he went into a frenzy. Katherine tried to do what Emily had instructed, drag Damon in the opposite direction, but Damon would hear of no such thing. Emily was too smart to drag Elena south, as Katherine suggested. She would never take Elena or herself into those war-torn territories. He stole away in the middle of the night and happened upon a carriage on the side of the rode. Emily’s body, emptied of her soul, was splayed out in the dirt, her dead eyes gazing at the stars. Elena was no where to be found, but there was one witness. The driver had been compelled to follow Emily’s instructions. After Elena had flung herself from the cab, Emily directed him to circle back around and wait for them, but she was dead by the time he returned. Elena stood on the stone wall of the bridge, facing the water. He said nothing when she jumped because Emily did not tell him to. 

Damon snapped his neck right then and there. 

“Wait!” he called, grabbing her hand and looping it through his arm so she could not run. “You cannot possibly think I would just let you walk away.”

“What do you want?”

“I looked for you for months. I thought you died.”

“I did.”

He inhaled as if to say something, but tucked that conversation away for another time. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t much like the crowds,” she sighed. “I only came for supper.”

“Then I will escort you home.” 

“Do you think I would so easily let you know where I lay my head?”

“I was only trying to be polite, Miss.”

“You were never this thick when we were together, what changed?”

Damon could not help but smirk. “You were always my better half, you know that.”

“I am whole on my own, thank you very much.”

He sighed. “If you will not let me escort you home, then stay with me here.”

She looked around as if seeing her surroundings for the first time. “And do what?”

People moved all around them, but they were perfectly still in the center of it all. He looked around as if to measure all of the possibilities. “Come explore with me.”

-

“I do not understand,” Elena called rather loudly. “What is the purpose of this contraption?”

They sat together on the monorail, moving at an exponentially slow speed. From up that high, they saw everything the Exposition had to offer. Lights were strung up all along their path. Elena was very annoyed with it all. “If I need to go somewhere, I take a train. Trains are fast. Where will I get if we are going this slow?”

Damon laughed. He was sure that he had said the same thing to Stefan. “You are not meant to go anywhere fast. You are meant to see.” That is what Stefan told him. 

She glared at him from the side of her eye. It had been a long time since she had slowed down. “I am not impressed,” was all she said.

“Clearly,” he smirked. 

The next thing she said took him by surprise. “Why are you here, Damon?”

“I thought the breeze would be nice,” he joked, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “You?”

She turned to the girl in front of them, lightly running her fingers through her long red hair. She was too invested with the handsome man at her side to notice. “It’s the Centennial Exposition on our great country’s one hundredth birthday. Every corner of the Earth has spit out strangers and curiosities into this very town, and what am I to do but take advantage? All of this is just a feast served on a very patriotic platter for our kind.”

“Our kind?”

“We’re everywhere. Have you not noticed?” She nodded towards the man that the red head was wrapped around. He had been whispering into her ear, but looked up briefly to lock eyes with Elena. He had heard every word, of course. 

“So you are not living here?”

“I am not living.”

“What will it take to end this, Elena? Speak to me!”

She looked at him defiantly, saying nothing when he grabbed her by the arms. He spoke just above a whisper, “You know I am sorry. I am so, so sorry for what I did to you. It was never my intention to hurt you. Please, just tell me what it will take for you to forgive me.”

She sat up straighter. “I am hungry.”

It took him a moment to recuperate. He thought that was his big break. He was ready to kiss her and whisk her away just as soon as she said, “I forgive you,” but she acted like she had not heard a word. “Hungry?”

“I want her,” she whispered, nodding to the redhead. The other vampire looked up at her so viciously that his true face could be seen lurking under the surface. 

Then Damon understood. She wanted to play a game, and he needed to win. He moved in front of Elena as the man moved toward her. “Why don’t you find your own toys?” he growled.

Damon stood much taller than the man, and if he had to guess, he was no more than a fledgling. No vampire that survived more than a year was so blatantly territorial and aggressive. “Ask yourself if it is worth it,” he said quietly. Those around them only stopped staring when a show of fireworks rose above their heads. “I am bigger and stronger, but my… friend is much angrier. Is it worth it to you?”

“Actually,” the man said, “it is.” 

Damon looked back to Elena as if to measure how serious she was. Her face was leaden and angry and she nodded at him. He was quick and quiet about it all, grabbing the man by the collar and dropping him off of the side of the rail. Elena smiled widely to Damon’s delight, and the girl, who informed them that her name was Sage, sat idly by. Damon was obviously pleased when he offered the girl’s neck to Elena. He had one the prize.

-

“What was it called again?” Elena called excitedly.

“A tiger,” Damon answered, struggling to keep up as she dragged him forward by the hand. 

“A tiger!” She stopped suddenly and Damon ran straight into her. She kept her eyes steady on his. “I want to eat it,” she said earnestly.

“Animal blood is no good,” he grimaced.

“Have you ever had tiger blood?”

“No…”

“Then you will never know how it is!”

Her attitude was entirely different after they fed. He worried for a minute that she was going to kill the girl, but he was eventually able to pry her off and compel her to go straight home. 

“Come,” she giggled. “I want to see this great hand you mentioned.”

The crowds had thinned out as the night went on, but there was still a gathering in the light of the torch. Damon refused to pay this time; rather, he compelled their way to the top. 

She inhaled the crisp night air and there was a small smile on her face. Damon yearned to move closer to her, but he was afraid to scare her off. He was reminded of their walks down the old dirt road leading into town. Mystic Falls seemed like a lifetime away. “Do you ever get cold?” she said absently.

“What?”

“I cannot remember the last time I was cold,” she moved closer to him, “or warm.”

He did not like to hear that; after he died, he was always too hot or too cold. Every feeling was more than it was before. “I am so sorry for all of this,” he said.

She turned to him, but he could not read her face. “You never told me why you are really here,” she said. 

“It was Stefan’s idea,” he chuckled, “strange as that is.”

She perked up at his name. “Stefan?”

“And Katherine, of course. I suppose they wanted to come here for the same reason you did.”

“Where are they now?”

“Hell if I know. They will be gone until morning, I’m sure.”

She was silent then, and he could not help himself. He took her hand in his, and they sat in silence for a moment, both looking in opposite directions. It was like they were children, running through the tobacco fields that grew in between their homes. Back then, it was Elena who grabbed his hand because she could see the deep-routed unhappiness in his face. There they would stand, with the tall plants towering over them, blushing and unable to look each other in the eye. 

“I missed you,” he said quietly.

“Prove it.”

-

Upon entering his room at the inn, Damon and Elena crashed into the wall, their bodies only separating long enough to rip their clothes off. There was nothing gentle about them, and it was as though they were never apart. 

Elena, however, was very different now. She was no longer delicate and breakable. Contrarily, she threw Damon down on the dusty old mattress and was on top of him before he could blink. There was a fire inside of her and it was the first time she had felt anything other than rage in a decade. They covered each other. Elena’s hair ran across Damon’s body like silk as she kissed him all over. Damon’s hands touched every part of her. They were both freely drowning. 

“I love you,” Damon moaned over and over into her skin. The hair had stood up on the back of his neck. He had been with no one else. All he had thought about for years was her. Then she was there, very suddenly, on top of him, encompassing him.

She ran her hands up his arms and held them firmly above his head. “What did I taste like,” she rasped, and he saw her eyes turn red. He had never thought of what Elena would look like as a vampire, but he looked at her in awed fascination. She looked beautiful, he thought, dangerous even. He wanted her and the hunger on her face aroused him even more. “I want to know what you taste like.” 

He knew what she wanted and he turned his face as far to the side as he could without taking his eyes off of her. She clamped down onto his neck with a force he had never felt. It was only a few minutes before his fingers were tingling. He was going numb as all the blood in his body rushed to the only two places it could. 

She wrenched back, a satisfied and blood-covered smirk on her face. Her pulse was racing. 

She fell onto her back at his side, pulling him on top of her. He was dizzy and could not shake the smile from his face. She slid her hand down between her own legs. “Take me, Damon,” she pleaded.

-

He awoke to the oddest sensation. It felt as though his legs were on fire, but as he slowly rose out of his sweet, Elena-filled sleep, he realized that it was not a dream. He sat suddenly, the skin on his calves and feet slowly healing from their blisters. The large window, which was usually covered, had been stripped of its curtains and sunlight poured into the room. He slammed his back into the wall behind him. The sheets were gone for the bed. He had nothing to cover himself with and though he was not in direct sunlight and not burning, he was dreadfully uncomfortable.

He looked across the room, the sunlight scorching his corneas, and there was Elena, in the center of the great beam. His daylight ring dangled from her finger and a huge smile covered her face. He was in so much discomfort that it was a minute before he noticed she was naked. Her clothes, ripped to shreds, lay in a pile in the corner of the room. “Elena?” he said.

“Yes, Damon?”

“What is going on?”

“I have not felt the sunlight in twelve years. Did you realize that?”

He laughed uneasily, “I can get you a ring. It will take a few days, but Katherine knows a witch.”

“Of course she does.”

“You could have a bracelet instead… maybe a necklace.”

She frowned, “I like this ring, Damon.”

“That is a problem… because I need it.”

She slid the ring down her middle finger, where it still hung loosely, admiring it. “We can solve that problem just as soon as Katherine returns.”

He pressed his ear to the wall behind him, where Stefan and Katherine’s room sat on the other side. He did not hear anything. “Until then, maybe you could close that window.”

“I am basking, Damon!” Her smile was too big; it was not real. “Give me a moment, won’t you?”

“Elena, please tell me what is happening.”

The happiness fell from her face all at once. “Our baby died because of you,” she snarled. “Did you know that? I died because of you.”

He gulped, “I would never hurt that baby.”

“Oh, but you did. Think about it, Damon. I was a walking corpse. How could it have survived inside of me? You knew you were hurting me and you continued still.”

“I-“

“It is no matter,” she said, waving her hand as if to dismiss him. I have a plan.”

A knock came at the door and he grasped at something to cover himself with. He had to settle for his hands. 

Elena hopped up cheerily, all evidence of her previous outburst gone. She opened the door completely unbothered by her own nudity. A blonde greeted her with a smile. Damon’s stomach dropped. He knew the girl. She was there the previous night, the one who watched him from far away. He had thought to feed on her at one point. “Caroline,” Elena said, letting her into the room. “I was hoping you would come soon.”

The girl called Caroline handed Elena a dark bag that she began pulling clothes out of. She dressed herself as Caroline studied Damon. “He is so much prettier up close,” she giggled. 

“A pretty fool,” Elena muttered.

Caroline perked up at the sound of something outside. “He’s here,” she said.

“Good,” Elena said. She slid Damon’s ring around a silver chain and clasped it around her own neck. “Wouldn’t want it to slip off.”

“Who is here?” Damon said. “What are you going to do to me?”

Elena looked to him, feigning compassion. “Oh, it is not you I am after. Don’t you see? This is all Katherine’s fault. I am going to kill her.”

“She’s stronger than you,” he warned. 

“I know, but I have help. First, I needed your ring. Which was… embarrassingly easy to get. Then, I needed people stronger and more experienced then myself. Katherine sired Caroline long ago. When was it?”

“It was the eighteenth century. We quarreled over a boy, and I lost… obviously”

“She has just as much reason as I to enact revenge.”

“Who else?”

“His name is Klaus.”

-32-


	33. Aftermath

**Part II**

**Chapter XXXIII**

**1876**

**Philadelphia, Pennsylvania**

Naked and afraid, Damon waited. He had spilled no blood and he had broken no bones, but he felt as though he had suffered a great injury. He found a space next to the small vanity in the corner of the room, cowering behind it to protect himself from the sunlight. What will happen when Elena returns? he thought. What if she never does? 

He set aside his panic and rage to collect his thoughts. The sun must sleep, he thought. He said it over and over as he watched the sunlight creep closer to him, never relaxing until it finally began to recede toward the window again. 

Once he was able to think properly, he mapped exactly what he would do once he was free of his room: he would find his clothing, or steal some, whichever proved easiest, and then he would find Elena. If he found her, he knew he would be able to fix everything.

He spent the rest of his hours reasoning; Elena has been alone and confused for a decade. She did not have him to protect her. She did not have him to teach her. She was confused, and he need only speak with her. Katherine could protect herself, surely, from whatever she had planned. It would all be well once the sun set. He began pacing as soon as the sun was tucked safely out of view of his window, slowly sinking in the Western skies. He would soon make his escape. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the door abruptly swinging open. At first glance of the dark brown curls coming from behind it, he sped towards them, grabbing Elena by the neck and pulling her further into the room. He had her back to the wall before she could blink, only it was not her at all. Rather, a smaller version of her, gazing contentedly up at Damon with similar almond shaped eyes that were not brown enough. Her hair was too short as well, but she it wore as Elena always had.

He fell back, embarrassed and confused, but she did not seem bothered in the least. She seemed comfortable, if not a tad bit out of it. There was something about the way that she did not look directly at Damon when she spoke to him that made him uneasy. Her clothes were ill-fitted, as though they were made for someone just a little bigger than herself, moreover, they looked a little outdated. She stood quietly as though waiting for him to say something first, pulling up the shoulder of her dress as it fell.

In her left hand, she clutched a bundle of clothes. Wordlessly, she offered them to him. He snatched them from her quicker than she could extend her arm, but she did not seem to mind. Trying to keep himself covered, he retreated to his place behind the vanity, pulling it out from the wall to dress himself behind. “Who are you?” he half-snarled, securing his belt around his waste. 

No reply.

He lips curled into an irritated frown. “Did Elena send you?”

No reply.

“Are you deaf?”

No reply.

He rushed to her once more, his hand wrapping itself around her throat before he realized what he was doing. “Speak!” he ordered.

“I’ve brought you something else,” she said finally. Chills ran up and down his arms; she sounded so much like Elena. He looked down to her right hand and ripped the small silver object from her fingers before she could offer it. It was the chain that Elena had secured around her neck only hours early, his ring dangling from it. He secured the ring around his finger and the muscles in his shoulders relaxed slightly. “Where is she?” he said, trying to control his voice. 

“Who?”

Again, he felt the blood in his body rush down his spine, alight with rage. He inhaled, and spoke once more, focusing directly on her irises. “Where. Is. Elena?”

The girl looked down for a moment, biting her lip as though she was genuinely trying to think of an answer. Her eyes returned to his, empty.

He knew that this girl could not be a vampire resisting his compulsion; she was human. He could hear her heart beat and feel the warmth of her skin. Elena must have compelled her, that was the only explanation he could think of. “Do you know the answer?”

She nodded.

“Can you tell me the answer?”

He was met by silence again, and the girl looked almost embarrassed. 

He took a calming breath, begging for patience. “Why are you here?”

“I brought your things,” she smiled proudly.

“Is that all?”

“What else would you like?”

He rolled his eyes, “What is your name?”

“What would you like my name to be?”

Exasperated, he turned his back on her and finished putting on the remainder of his clothing. As he laced his shoes, he turned to her once more. “What will happen when you leave here?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Where will you go?”

“Oh,” she said, and her face looked like she had only just remembered something, “I do not intend to leave.”

“You will sit in this room until Elena comes for you?”

“No.”

He could feel it: he was on the brink of ripping the poor girls throat out. Perhaps Elena had compelled her to be this way on purpose. She knew how much he hated repeating himself. “Elena is not coming for you?”

“No.”

“Surely the innkeeper will want to make use of this room once I have paid for it and left. What will you do then?”

“I will not have to worry about it then.”

“Why is that?”

“I will be dead by then.”

He eyed her suspiciously, but she did not seem to notice or care. “Do you think I will kill you?”

“She said you would be hungry,” the girl said sweetly. 

He stood up, taking her face softly in his hands, to bring her eyes to his. “Please,” he begged, “is there nothing else you can tell me.”

“I only have one more thing for you.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes.”

For a moment, he thought not to trust her, but his desperation to learn anything he could about Elena’s location outweighed any distrust he had. After a moment, he did as told and shut his eyes.

He felt her raise a hand and place it on top of his, which she had never taken away from her face.“Damon,” she said. It was just above a whisper, but he was sure it was Elena speaking to him. He could feel his face getting warm as he waited for her to say more. “You need to feed, Damon.” He did not move. “She said you would hesitate.”

Irritation prickled under his skin; how could she still know him so well when he did not seem to know her at all?

“Damon,” she said again, but he did not want to talk to her. He did not want to feed. He wanted Elena, and as though she could read his mind and grand his wish, she spoke again. “I looked for you,” he heard her say, and his stomach dropped. He knew it was not Elena, but he could not help but feel that she was. That’s what Elena wanted, he realized. She had never been good at goodbyes. “For years I wandered, lost without you.” 

“I am so sorry,” he finally said. “I would have come for you if I had known.”

“I know, darling.”

He pulled her closer to him, burying his face in her hair and wrapping his arms around her, never once opening his eyes. She did not smell like Elena, no, her perfume was too sweet, but if he focused, if he inhaled at just the right moment, he caught it; the smell of honey and lemongrass that lingered from when the two women last interacted. Perhaps it was only his imagination. “I missed you.”

“I know.”

“Please,” he begged, “please do not leave me.”

She could feel her hands running gently through his hair. “I cannot leave once I am already gone.”

His jaw clenched and he could feel the water in his eyes. 

“Perhaps we will meet again,” she whispered.

“When?”

“In the air,” she said absently, “in the stars.”

He ripped away from her, grabbing her by the soldiers so she looked like a stranger once again. “That does not make any sense!” he screamed.

“It is time, Damon.”

“No!”

She pulled a pin from her hair, gently poking her finger with it until a small drop of blood formed there. He was weak from a day without food and full of sunlight, but he resisted anyway, holding out hope that the girl would miraculously reveal Elena’s location. The girl glanced out of the window, it had grown dark. “Katherine will be dead by now.”

“What?” 

“You must go find Stefan,” she instructed. “He will need you now more than ever.” She raised her hand back to his face, rubbing the droplet of blood across his bottom lip. “Feed, Damon.”

He could feel the veins protruding from his eyes and it was no use trying to stop himself. He reared his head back before latching onto the the girls neck. She tensed for a moment, digging her nails into the back of his neck before relaxing and once again dragging her fingers gently through his hair. Her heartbeat grew heavier and slower with every passing second, but he pulled himself off of her just before she slipped away. A tear had escaped the corner of her eye, and she looked less like Elena than she did before. He inhaled a deep sob and her last words seemed to echo a million miles away from him. “Goodbye for now.”

***

Stefan returned not long after to find Damon sitting on the floor of his very empty-looking room. A body laid out in front of him, its face covered by his jacket. He did not look up to greet his brother as he entered. “Where is she?” Stefan growled.

“Who?” Damon answered blankly.

“Elena!” he roared, moving further into the room as though she had something to hide behind.

“An excellent question, brother.”

“She’s dead, Damon!” Stefan said, his face flushed. “Katherine! She… she… we… there was Elena and this… this man, and another someone else… I… they…”

“I know,” Damon said, raising his voice over Stefan’s rambling.

“You know?”

“I know.”

“What happened?”

“I do not know.”

“You just said you knew!”

Damon did not respond and Stefan slid down the wall. “They… ripped her apart, Damon. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Upon finally looking at Stefan, Damon realized that his brother was indeed covered in red. His clothes and the cracks in his nails were stained a dirty crimson. Damon felt ill. “What happened?”

“We had grown bored… it was early morning and everyone had gone home. Katherine wanted to feed before we came back. I… we each found someone and went to find a private area that we could… I thought I saw Elena. Damon, I swear it was her, but when we followed… it was not. I had told Katherine and the second she heard Elena’s name she wanted to get rid of our companions. She demanded we follow her.”

“You went after Elena?”

“No... yes… it was not Elena. It was… a stranger, neither of us recognized her aside from… she was so familiar, Damon.”

Damon eyed the body beside him.

“Katherine grabbed her, and she was… expecting us. No, not expecting us, she… we did not know her but she knew us. It was very confusing, but… she told us that you were looking for us… that she could lead us to you. I thought it was funny, you know, because of her likeness to Elena. I thought we would find you in rather good spirits, but we never found you.”

“Where did you go?”

“I… we just walked until I felt Katherine stop. She had grabbed onto my sleeve…” he reached down to where she had grabbed him as though he could still feel her fingers there. “A man was walking toward us, and she seemed to know him. I was not sure how I was supposed to act. Katherine… she… it just happened so fast. First there was the man, and then there was a woman… she had flirted with me earlier in the evening. I thought… I thought that if… I thought she…”

“Stefan!” Damon said. “Hold yourself together.” 

“It was so fast, Damon.” He was becoming very upset. “Elena showed up, and I was very confused. All three of them were speaking as if they had known each other… well, of course Katherine and Elena knew each other, but the other two… they just jumped on her. I tried to stop them… they were so strong, Damon. Someone twisted my neck in the commotion, and when I woke up, only Katherine and I remained… myself more intact then she.”

Damon pulled himself up, ignoring the numbness in his legs and moving next to his brother. He squatted down, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry, Stefan.”

Stefan grew angry then, shoving Damon back and forcing himself up. “I’ll kill that bitch!” he screamed. “I’ll find every last one of them and rip them limb from limb!” The veins under his eyes were protruding as if to explode and his teeth had descended from his gums. He never did have a chance to eat. “Where is she, Damon? Tell me!”

***

The moon was not in the sky, and Elena could feel a chill in her bones. She gazed out over the invisible sea, only knowing it was there by the sounds of it hitting the sides of the ship. She heard Caroline giggling behind her, but she hadn’t been paying enough attention to her or Klaus to know what they were talking about. Her hands felt sticky, as though she had not rinsed them completely when they were preparing for the boat ride. She opened and closed them over and over, testing to see if she could still feel the blood running through the cracks in her palms, but it was too cold and they were too numb. 

“Elena, darling!” she heard Klaus call. “Come, sit.”

She did as she was told, joining them on a low bench at their side. “Yes?” she said coolly.

“Is something wrong?” Caroline asked. “You seem a bit-”

“-less than thrilled that we just did away with the very reason for your unhappiness,” Klaus finished. 

Elena took a minute, weighing her words. They were right. It was Elena who started this all, first when she met Caroline and they discovered they both had good reason to hate a woman named Katherine Pierce. When Caroline mentioned another fellow who might be interested in aiding whatever plans they had to make her miserable, it was Elena who urged her to find him. A day ago, she could not sleep for she was so excited to kill Katherine. Now something felt wrong. “Perhaps it’s the cold,” was all she could think to say.

“Cheer up, pet,” said Klaus. “You’ve done it, you’ve killed the beast and now you can go wherever you heart desires. 

That was the problem, she realized. What her heart desired was far behind her, too far behind her, perhaps. She chastised herself silently. She could never forgive Damon for what he had done to her. He was a monster, and now she was too. 

She sat for a moment and then straightened, vowing to forget it all, and after a moment she felt something click in her brain. She had felt a similar sensation before, when she fed too greedily and was left with a corpse and guilt, something inside of her would shift, and she did not feel sad anymore. This time it happened and she felt every muscle in her body loosen. Everything that she felt melted away and her hands were not cold anymore. She sighed as though breathing out every negative thing that had ever plagued her and forgot all of her thoughts about Damon and Katherine. Well, she hung onto the memory of Katherine’s bones snapping in her hands. She rather liked that memory. “You are right,” she said, smiling suddenly. “I think I just need someone to eat.”

-33-


	34. The Return

**Part II**

**Chapter XXXIV**

**1912**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

It was, by definition, a perfect spring day in the town of Mystic Falls. A vibrant green stretched across the miles and miles of farmland that bordered the town. The sky was infinitely blue, and children laid in their yards with their friends, pointing up the clouds trying to guess what they looked like. The town square was humming with the sound of footsteps and voices, vendors calling out to people passing by, the steady beat of doors opening and bells ringing, and carriages rumbling across the bumpy cobblestones of the street. 

Everyone was so enthralled in the day, that they did not seem to notice the very odd-looking carriage that made its way slowly through the crowd. Sleek black covered almost every surface aside from the shining silver lanterns that shook on each side. Most peculiar was that it did not appear to have any windows or doors, as though it were simply a box on wheels. The driver did not appear to be worried by this, or anything at all. He sat, eyes blank and ahead of him, and one might think he had never had a thought in his life. 

On the other side of town, behind miles of deserted fields whose soil had been exhausted and overused long ago, a man lay dying. He peered out of the window by his bedside, his expression blank. A tray of food sat untouched at his side, small flies circling around it. He did not move when he heard a knock come at the front door, nor did he move when he heard a series of crashes and cursing. It was silent for a moment, and then his door flew open. He began to slowly turn his head to find the source of the ruckus, but something flashed before his eyes before they could reach their destination. In the following seconds, the curtains were shut and the room was dark, but he did not bother to look at them. “I was wondering if you would ever come back,” he said grimly.

There was silence for a moment, only disturbed by the sound of his raspy breathing. For a moment he was sure he smelt something burning. Chills crept down his spine as the phantom spoke, for it was a voice that he only heard in his dreams anymore. “Jeremy,” she said, “look how old you’ve grown.”

He jumped a little when he finally turned his head to greet his guest, for he did not see her at all. She stood back in the corner, as though purposefully avoiding his gaze. A long, dark traveling cloak covered her entire body, the hood hanging over her face slightly. As she moved towards him, he saw that something had been wrapped around her neck and face, just below her eyes, and she even sported a pair of dark, round spectacles. She lowered her hood carefully, revealing the scarf that she had wrapped around her head and neck which she quickly removed as well. She pealed her glasses of next. All of which ended up in a pile in the chair in the corner. 

He knew she would not look as he remembered. He told himself not to picture her loose brown curls and bright, young eyes. He did not expect to see her standing there, giggling and buoyant as she ever was. He was wrong. She had tucked her curls away haphazardly at the back of her head, an escaped strand hanging in her face as always. She came to sit at his side and put a gloved hand on each side of his face and placed a small kiss on his forehead. She smiled the same smile she always had and for a moment he wondered if it had all been a dream, and Elena had simply come to wake him up. “I am afraid I knocked your door down,” she said, rousing him from his thoughts. “We did not intend to arrive as early as we did, what with the sun and all.” He did not reply. “Of course, I will pay to have it prepared, or perhaps Jordan will do it. He is very handy.”

“Jordan?” he said finally. 

“My chauffeur for the moment, he is around somewhere, I hope closing the rest of your windows.”

She was so much the same and so very different. There was a sort of arrogance in the way she spoke. Invisible strings pulled at the corners of her mouth, giving her the appearance that she regularly met with her dying sibling and was very unbothered by it.

The sat silent for a moment, still appraising one another, still deciding what to say. Elena busied herself removing the long black gloves from her hands and tossing them into the pile with the rest of her things. Jeremy broke the silence. “Why did you come?”

She thought for a moment before taking one of his hands in both of hers, patting it gently. His skin had a taken a papery gray look, the bones in his knuckles and fingers looking as though they would tear through at any moment. She diverted her eyes, trying not to stare at the dark spots that seemed to cover every inch of flesh she could see. She could smell the impending death coming from him; it coated his blankets and stuck to the walls. “I think you know,” she said finally, her voice just above a murmur. 

“Come to see your dear old brother put in the ground?” She looked up and realized he was smiling. “If I had known that was what it would take to see you again, I would have stopped going to see my physician. Perhaps we would have met sooner.”

“Oh, stop,” she said sheepishly. “I could not let my brother pass away without one final dose of mayhem.”

There were a few seconds more of silence while Jeremy posed his next question, though he was not sure it was possible to do so tactfully. “So, she really did turn you then?”

Elena blinked, unsure of what he was asking.

“They all said Katherine was a vampire, that she kidnapped you and turned you for whatever evil purpose that served her; perhaps to reek havoc on another town.”

“They?”

“The council, townsfolk who were privy to information that something dark had come to Mystic Falls.”

“They blamed her for all of the murders then?”

“Well, it was not hard to put together once she had gone. John was dead and four people were missing. It could only have been Katherine. She marked the beginning of all of that trouble.”

“It was more complicated than that,” Elena said matter-of-factly, “and far too long ago for us to still speak of it now.”

“Of course,” he conceded, “but you, or shall I say we, are quite famous around these parts. Yes, everyone knows the names Gilbert and Salvatore here. I myself have pondered the details of the infamous night for many years. It happened right under my nose and I never really understood.”

“What do you know, then?”

“Nothing,” he laughed. “Nobody knows anything for sure, though the rumors are rather fun to listen to.”

She leaned forward, grabbing at the opportunity to avoid speaking anymore of what really happened that night, or the days before, or the days after. It was all rather boring to her. “What rumors?”

“Some said that the Founder’s Council was really a secret society founded under Satan, and that they sacrificed virgin’s for good harvest in return. That is why all of those people were going missing. That is why you went missing. That is why Stefan and Damon went missing.” 

A shadow swept over Elena’s face at those names, for she had not heard them in many years. Her stomach leapt, but she crammed whatever feelings that seemed to be making their way up her throat back down before they had a chance to make themselves known. She leaned back in her seat as if to stretch, shaking her head until that little switch clicked back into place. A resounding calm spread over her, and her cheeks faded back from red to pink. She leaned forward once again, a smile back on her face. Jeremy did not seem to notice that anything had happened at all. 

“There was another rumor that it was werewolves who were attacking those people, and somehow, one of them infiltrated the house and ate you all. The scene was rather bloody…” he looked toward the curtained window as though it were open. He could still see it as though it had happened only moments ago. 

“Jeremy?” Elena said, tapping him on the arm. “What else?”

“Someone said that it was you who killed them all; you and Damon. They said that Giuseppe Salvatore had refused to give let Damon marry you, and so you both killed him in a plan to run away and elope. I suppose John and Stefan got in the way, so you had to do away with them as well.”

Amused, Elena brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Who knew the residents of Mystic Falls had such active little imaginations?”

Jeremy laughed, “Oh, those silly rumors have been around forever. I heard Katherine Pierce haunts the Salvatore Estate, and that children like to go there to try and speak with her ghost.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“You look as though you’ve done well,” she said. It was true. Though she had to travel around to the backside of the old Gilbert Estate, now a blackened pile of overgrown and thick foliage that once was their home, her brothers new abode was not unfortunate. It stood on the outskirts of Gilbert land, a cozy farmhouse. A small plot of land had been reserved for the animals in the back, and another plot to the side housed a variety of crops. It was well kept, though not by Jeremy by the looks of him. 

He shrugged and laced his fingers together. He did not look disappointed, but his face was devoid of true contentment. “I was the first they blamed the morning after you had fled. I can’t say I blame anybody, knowing how it must have looked. A room full of blood, four missing bodies, and me, alive.”

“You were only fifteen,” Elena said, stony faced. Jeremy could not help but feel a little irritated at his sister. Though he could speak of what others said about that night with a smile on his face, for what everyone said was silly and obviously untrue, he could not face the reality of it all without feeling the same fear and sadness that he felt then. It was not right, yet Elena sat there, calculating, unfeeling. 

“Do you think they cared? They needed someone to blame. They needed it all to end. They needed someone to punish.”

He waited for her to say something, apologize, anything, but she only waited for him to continue his tale. With an annoyed sigh, he did. “They arrested me, you know. I was taken down to Town Hall and locked up in the cells in the basement. Can you believe that?”

She did feel a slight prickle of irritation, but brushed it off. Had she known seeing her brother again would allow her emotions to do as they please, she might have reconsidered coming. “But you were innocent.”

“It took them a while to come to that, but eventually I was released. I had never seen an unhappier Sheriff Forbes,” he chuckled. “However, they did their best to cast me into a particularly nasty light from then on. I was thrown from the Salvatore residence, and barred from my inheritance until I became of age. No one was willing to take a vampire sympathizer in. Even now I am a pariah. I have been told that the children in town believe it was I who chopped my family into a million pieces and buried them beneath the ashes of our home.”

“Why did you stay then?”

“I wanted to marry Victoria Donovan, as you may recall. I was quite infatuated with her at the time, but her father absolutely refused. I was alone, penniless, and without shelter; no suitable match for anyone’s daughter.”

“I never thought she was a good match for you anyway.”

“If only that would have soothed my broken heart, but alas I was quite distraught. Though I believe you are right; Victoria never appeared as broken up about it all as I did. Anyway, driven by my desire to survive, I acquired a job on a ranch only a couple of miles south of town. They provided room and board, three square meals a day, and a small wage.”

Elena smirked, “What do you know about working on a ranch?”

“Nothing!” he laughed. “My employer was none too happy to learn that I was quite the novice.”

“Were you discharged then?”

“Luckily, his wife Esther was rather sweet on me. She convinced him to allow me to stay. As hard as that man was, he was always soft for her.”

“Did they not know your involvement with vampires?”

“They only ever knew me as Gil, which is the name I took for many years.”

“Gil?” she smiled.

“I had not prepared to give a name when I first met them. I guess I did not think about it beforehand. I thought it was very clever.”

Elena laughed, “I meant to ask you, though I seemed to have a rather difficult time exiting my coach, I was able to enter without an invite. Who owns this home?”

A sad look glazed over his eyes and he turned to look at the curtains once more. “I gave it to my youngest son when I became to ill to care for it anymore.” He took a long pause before he continued, as if to gather strength. “He died a fortnight ago,” and then he added, as though he felt it needed to be said, “his name was Gil.”

Elena smiled a little, “You named him Gil?”

“That name meant a lot to me,” he said, annoyed. “That name signified my new beginning. Once I took my previous name, it felt wrong to leave ‘Gil’ behind. He was rather like an old friend.”

She dropped it, though she could not help but smile at the name Gil Gilbert. “How did it happen?”

“A horse kicked him in the head,” he sighed. “I know; we were shocked as well. By the time any of us realized what had happened, it was too late for anything to be done. We buried him just outside that window.”

“How many of you are here?”

He thought for a moment as though he had to count them out in his head. “My eldest son moved north when he became of age, but he came back after the death of his brother. He has a wife and a daughter. Gil’s wife lives here too, of course. She is pregnant, so you could count her as one and a half. Then there is my wife and I.”

A calm came over Elena and she was grateful that she did not find her brother living in squander and filth as she had expected. She liked the thought of him being surrounded by family. It was what his younger self always wanted. 

They spoke until the sun began to set in the sky, Elena becoming more comfortable with each passing minute. She told him of her travels to the ends of the Earth. He told her of the small fortune he had amassed, even before he was old enough to claim his inheritance, by selling vervain to the paranoid inhabitants of Mystic Falls. 

The went on like that for a long time, and Elena was grateful that she had fought against her greater judgment and come to see her brother. The got on just as if she had never left. Just as she began to recount the tale of how she hoodwinked and compelled a group of bandits out of a very tidy sum on the way to visit him, she head sounds coming from below. She could hear Jordan snoring quietly from somewhere in the house, most likely the sitting room on the first floor. There was the click of a door shutting and heavy footsteps crossing the floor just below where she sat. Her back stiffened, and she stood up. “Someone is here.”

He laughed loudly, gesturing her back to her chair. Never had she looked more like a vampire then at that very moment. “Grayson,” he called weakly, “is that you?”

Though she knew it was silly, for a split second Elena expected to hear her father call back to them. She shook this thought away, annoyed with herself and listened to the footsteps moving toward them. She watched the door, nervous as to who it could be coming to them, for she had never liked meeting knew people in her un-life. 

“Yes!” a deep voice called back. “I’ll be there in a minute, pa!”

Elena stood once more at the sound, suddenly more nervous than before, brushing the hair from her eyes and straightening the collar on her jacket. She knew she might meet Jeremy’s new family, she had just never prepared for it.

The door creaked and swung open, and there he was, Elena’s nephew. She was slightly shocked by his appearance. He was tall and strong, just past thirty, she guessed. He had those same thick, broody eyebrows of her brother, and the same nose too. Though she did not see Jeremy at all. This man did not share his father’s fair skin, no, his skin was smooth and swarthy, toughened by working long days in the sun. Elena looked from him – who seemed just as shocked by her – to Jeremy, waiting for an explanation. “Grayson, this is your aunt Elena.” 

A strange smell accompanied the man as he entered the room, she could smell the sweat and sun, but there was something else, almost like roses. She could not put her finger on it was so subtle. He moved toward her and held out a reluctant hand, appraising her with a distrusting look. Jeremy had addressed her as his aunt, so he must know what she is, right? As she wrapped her slender fingers in his tight grasp she was met with the unique blistering sensation that can only be attributed to vervain, and she very suddenly understood what she had been smelling.She wrenched her hand back from his and suppressed a growl that rumbled in her throat. Jeremy laughed, either blissfully or willingly ignorant of the tension in the room. “Sorry, Elena, I did not realize they would be harvesting the vervain today.”

“Apologies,” Grayson said, his steely gaze seeming to penetrate straight through Elena’s head and into the wall behind her. She had a feeling that he knew exactly what he was doing when he took her hand, and considered very seriously putting her gloves black on should anymore family members come inside. 

Elena said nothing, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from biting him, and took her seat back at her brother bedside. 

“I saw a carriage sitting out front,” Grayson said, “and I thought I should come check on you, pa.” He shifted uncomfortably from his left foot to his right, and Elena was sure she heard another pair of quiet footsteps coming up the stairs as he spoke. “Go fetch your mother,” Jeremy said. “I would not want her to be taken by surprise by our guest.” There was something pointed in his words and Elena grew increasingly tense. 

He turned as though to say something else to her, but she rose from her seat once again as the quiet footsteps made their way to the door. Jeremy turned in time to see a small head poking its way into the room. “Abby,” he cooed. “Why are you hiding?”

She wordlessly leapt out from behind the door, scurrying into the room and grabbled hold of Jeremy’s hand, never once making eye contact with Elena.

Elena sat down mechanically, trying to position herself in the most unimposing way possible. She never did learn how to behave around children after she died. “Who is this?” she asked, feigning calm though all the blood in her body rushed to her fingertips. She had a crushing desire to reach out and touch the child, and having allowed her impulses to control almost every move she had made for half a century, she was having great difficulty controlling herself.

“Abigail,” he said sternly, “are going to greet my guest?”

“Hi,” she said meekly, her voiced garbled by the covers she was hiding behind. She could not have been older than four, and she was small even for that age. Even so, she looked just like her father, though her face was still very chubby. 

“Hello,” Elena said, sounding strange. 

The girl leaned over to whisper something to Jeremy, her tiny hand barely covering her mouth. Elena strained to hear what she was saying. It sounded something like, “Daddy said not to come in here.”

As she leaned back, she finally brought her eyes nervously to Elena’s, which, to Elena’s great pleasure, were nearly identical to her own. Her stomach flipped and the curiosity was making her fidget. She was quite relieved to hear the sounds of two sets of footsteps making their way to the room. 

A woman entered, younger then Jeremy, though Elena could not guess by how much. She shared Grayson’s dark complexion as well as many of his facial features, though her face was smaller and softer. Her mouth was set in a hard line, and it did not soften at the sight of the family reunion before her. Grayson swept across the room and took Abby into his hands without a word, though his expression gave way that he was very annoyed. The older women came closer to Jeremy, almost wedging herself between him and Elena, and Elena could feel herself instinctively bracing for a fight. She was obviously not welcome. “Bonnie,” Jeremy said light-heartedly, “I’ve told you about my sister.”

The woman called Bonnie nodded, but remained silent. Elena smiled contemptuously, feeling her claim to her brother was stronger than than whoever these strangers were before her. “Pleased to meet you,” she said over-sweetly.

“I was just about to tell her how we met, Bon.”

“Were you?” she said through gritted teeth. “Well, perhaps it can wait until supper. I am sure… Elena would like to settle in and collect herself. I imagine it is quite a strain to come knocking down doors in the middle of the day.”

“In the middle of the day, yes,” Elena smirked. She knew full well that Bonnie was not ignorant to her condition. Pretending otherwise seemed a futile effort. “I think she is right, Jeremy. Settling down for a moment would be lovely.”

Jeremy nodded. “Bonnie can take you to the guest room.”

Elena stood, gathering her things. Bonnie shot a furious look at her husband before leading her to the back of the house. 

They passed through the sitting room and Elena grabbed Jordan by the arm, dragging his sleepy figure behind her. It was only at the last second that remembered to grab her things. The guest room was quaint, and faintly reminded Elena of Jeremy’s old room. It bored the same colors and nearly identical furniture.Bonnie parted with one last suspicious look and neither said a word to the other. 

She gestured to a space near the wall for Jordan to put her things, where he set everything down as gently as he could manage. When he was finished, he presented himself to Elena. “Are you hungry?”

“Famished,” she said, though she was irritated that it was again Jordan’s wrist she was feeding from. She was growing tired of the way he tasted and it was rather boring when a meal just handed themselves over. She missed the chase, and quite frankly, the sex. 

He took a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her once she had finished. She took it in her hands daintily, dabbing at the corners of her mouth before returning it. He took this as a dismissal and turned to the bed plopping down on his back and covering his eyes with his hat, ready to nap again. Elena felt as though she could claw her eyes out, she had lost tracks of how many weeks it had been with the same boring man, napping and feeding, feeding and napping. Her true self felt as though it was clawing its way out of her from just beneath her skin, and when she turned to view herself in the mirror, she realized her true face had peaked out. The veins in and under her eyes had turned pink at some point during her encounter with her brother, giving her a slightly monstrous appearance. She put a hand to her forehead; no wonder sister-in-law and nephew had not taken kindly to her. She looked ready to pounce at any moment. Shaking her embarrassed thoughts from her mind, she began to ready herself for dinner. 

She found that she was rather overdressed when she entered the dining room. Though everyone was in clean clothing, none had gone as far as she had to dress up. She wore a slim dress that made her look long and elegant, it was one of her favorites. She had even tied pearls around her neck. Her new family did not appear to be at all impressed with her attire, rather they seem annoyed. Jeremy even looked bothered for he had never seen Elena look less like herself. He shifted uncomfortably his chair, which did not match any of those around the table and had two wheels placed at the back. She had to beat down her embarrassment with a mental bat. 

Elena took the seat across from her brother, the entire table filled with mostly strangers. It took a moment for Jeremy to introduce them all. Bonnie sat at her husbands right, still refusing to look directly at Elena. Gil’s wife, Olivia, was next to her mother-in-law and indeed very pregnant. She had a frail look about her and Elena could not stop glancing in her direction. A yearning grew in the pit of her stomach, and she again felt the pestering need to reach out and touch her belly. Opposite of them and to Jeremy’s left was Grayson, who seemed very interested in his empty plate. His wife, Lucy, was tall and domineering, though she seemed the most welcoming of the Gilbert clan beside Jeremy. When the two were introduced, Lucy looked her directly in the eyes, and turned back to face forward without a word. Elena took the acknowledgment of her existence as a nice gesture. Finally, there was Abby, who still seemed very nervous. She glanced from her parents to Elena, looking as though something was on the tip of her tongue. Once Bonnie had placed the last dish on the center of table and rejoined them, they all joined hands. Elena had not been included as Olivia had grabbed at Abby’s small fingers from across the table before she could offer them to Elena. This did not bother Elena in the least, as she had long since discarded religious burdens.

“Well,” Jeremy said awkwardly when they had all lifted their heads, “Where was I? Oh, yes, Bonnie and I’s first encounter.” She had taken his plate from in front of him and began cut his meat into neat little squares. Elena noticed that his hands shook too much for him to wield a knife and she had a fleeting feeling that she was glad to never grow old enough to have someone cut her steak for her. “She worked on the same ranch as I did,” he continued, “I had only just begun my work there and I was quite miserable seeing as I had no clue what I was doing.” Elena noticed the ghost of a smile on Bonnie’s face. “She worked in the house and I worked on the field, so I did not meet her until I had been invited to eat at the big house by Esther. There I was, minding my own business, trying to eat without saying anything to warrant a tantrum from Mikael – that’s Esther’s husband, did I mention that? – when all of a sudden there is an angel at my side.”

There was a clatter as Bonnie dropped the silverware in her hands on her plate and rolled her eyes at her husband, and incredulous and amused smile on her face. “It’s true!” Jeremy said. “I had quite a lot to drink that night, you were glowing and everything.”

Elena remained politely interested as her brother went on, though she felt more jealous than interested. Even with Bonnie’s clear disdain for her houseguest, she could not mask her love for her husband. He told them all about how Bonnie’s own mother, Abigail, was a slave who escaped on the Underground Railroad, and how Bonnie was the first woman in her family to find a paying job, in the south no less. He bragged at her very accomplished talents as a musician and cook, and more interestingly, a witch. He spoke this truth very casually, as though every family had one, and his family members, including Elena, all looked very shocked at his candor.

Bonnie looked as though she could breath fire at her husband as he said this, but he only laughed. “She knows, dear,” he said. “She knows about it all, and if she couldn’t smell it on you by now it was only a matter of time before she found out.”

At that point, Bonnie very aggressively rolled her husband away from the room, despite his protests, leaving Elena alone with the rest of the family. She smiled a little at Abby, hoping she would say something, willing her with her eyes not to be afraid, and as though it worked, she said, “Grams thinks I might be a witch someday too.”

“Be quiet, Abigail,” her mother growled.

Elena gazed defiantly at Lucy before turning back to her. “Really? Can you do magic for me now?”

Ignoring the indignant hmph that came from her father, she shook her head. “Grams thinks I see the future, doesn’t she daddy?”

“Can you tell my my future?” 

The little girl focused hard, her tiny features crinkling in determination, and then, as though she had been smacked with sudden clarity, she relaxed. “Who is that man following you?”

-34-


	35. The Ripper of Monterey

**Part II**

**Chapter XXXV**

**1912**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Elena sat in front of a large window in her bedroom, as she had done every night for a fortnight. The sky was pitch black and only a sliver of the moon was visible.The farmhouse was completely silent, for all of its inhabitants had fallen asleep long before. Jordan stirred in the bed behind her, pulling the covers up to his chin and letting out a deep sigh before settling back into the mattress. A large oak tree swayed lazily in the on the outskirts of the Gilbert’s garden. 

Irritation tingled in her belly, and for the thousandth time since she arrived in Mystic Falls she imagined ripping every thread of hair from her head. At least then, she would have something to do. She took the cigarette that had been dangling passively between her lips into her fingers flicking the ash onto the floor. Bonnie hated when she smoked in the house, and it brought a smile to her face just thinking about her finding the mess strewn across the floor. She watched the few smoldering bits of ash gently disperse across the ugly brown rug below her, gleaming up at her as though they were eyes, and then gently fading to a dark gray.

She replaced the cigarette between her lips and her head fell with a dull thud on the back of her chair. Perhaps Abby had been wrong in prediction, as both her mother and father had insisted, yet Elena believed still. How could Abby have known otherwise? Elena had been avoiding him for decades now. He followed her from state to state and then from continent to continent. She rolled her eyes just thinking of it. Stefan Salvatore, she thought. The gallant and love-struck ignoramus set on avenging Katherine Pierce, a murderer and madwoman. Elena pictured Stefan, clad in a knight’s metal suit, tripping over his own feet and accidentally piercing himself with his own sword. Her late “aunt” was just there, tied to a tree, watching helplessly as Elena, the beautiful villainess laughed victoriously before putting her out of her misery. The thought cheered her some.

The prospect of Stefan coming to kill her was more of an annoyance than a serious threat, in Elena’s opinion. He was reckless and stupid. He thought Elena would be as easy to kill as a fragile human. She spoke of dangerous adventures and trips through the desserts. She spoke of a sun that was so bright, even their rings did not prevent them from turning an ugly shade of red until they found shade to cool off. All was very well and normal until at the very end, as though it was only an afterthought, she mentioned that Stefan had appeared out of nowhere and attempted to stake Klaus in broad daylight. She assured Elena that neither her or Klaus were marked by as much as a scratch, yet he fled before either of them could put a stop to him. All in all, it seemed that Caroline thought of it as more of an anecdote than a warning. 

Elena spent many years putting space between her and Stefan, for she was realistic. They were more evenly matched, and should he show his face, she would have to put up much more of a fight than Caroline and Klaus, who were very old and very strong. However, it had been many months since Elena had heard any troubling news about her old friend. She had not given him a second thought until Abby mentioned him in her prediction. Of course, she was only a child, Elena reasoned. There was no way that her power could have manifested at such an early age. Even so, Elena remained guarded, more for her family than herself. Sometimes she wondered if she cared for them or if she would rather kill them than let anyone else.

It was a dreadfully tedious existence; she was stuck inside during the day with the curtains drawn, and she was stuck inside during the night, watching out her window. The only break from it all was feeding, which had grown inconceivably more boring, and her time spent with Jeremy, though he had grown so feeble that even lying in bed and chatting with her was too tiring after long.

She decided that once Jeremy was gone the Gilberts would have to fend for themselves. Surely Little-Miss-Witch would be more than capable of killing a vampire, as she so often liked to remind Elena. To ease her mind, she convinced the family to assign ownership of the house to Grayson almost immediately after her arrival, though the family was less agreeable about inviting her in again.

Elena moved to flick her cigarette on the floor once more, but stopped when she noticed a flicker of movement from the corner of her eye. The smirk fell from her face and she stood to get closer to the window. She was sure she had seen a figure out by the lone tree in the distance. She mashed her cigarette against the pristine crystal of her ash tray and flew out of her room, out of the front door and around to the back of the house. A horse whinnied from somewhere inside the barn and the leaves in the garden rustled against each other in the breeze. Her eyes were only slits as she scrutinized every detail of her surroundings and her ears were poised to pick up any sound.

Bumps ran up and down her arms. She was sure she was being watched, but she could not tell who, what, or where it was. “Hello?” she called, but her voices seemed to melt in the breeze before they could penetrate the vast darkness surrounding her. Just as she spoke, a small figure appeared from around the corner of the house. She moved the moment she saw it, running as fast as she could, but was blasted backwards before she made contact with her prey. She looked up, bewildered, to find Bonnie glowering down at her. “What do you think you are doing?” she hissed.

Elena stood quickly, holding back her true face. “I should ask you the same thing,” she huffed.

“This is my home, remember?”

Elena sighed, looking back towards the tree, still unaccompanied by whatever she thought she saw. “I thought I saw someone.”

Bonnie followed Elena’s gaze, suspicion carved on her face. “No surprise, you vampires always bring bad things alongside you wherever you go.”

Elena bit the inside of her cheek; Bonnie was not exactly wrong. “I was just trying to keep you all safe.” 

The two were silent for a moment before Bonnie looked Elena in the eyes and nodded. She left without another word, leaving Elena to stare out into the darkness.

From that point on, she was far more invested in her nightly watches, though there was not any sign of movement since that night. Since their confrontation, Bonnie had been less outwardly aggressive toward her houseguest. The house begrudgingly followed suit, even allowing Elena to play with Abby during the day. 

Elena spent most of her days doing just that from that point on. It had been a long time since she had allowed herself to go near a child. Something blossomed in her chest when she held the tiny girl in her arms. It was a feeling she had not experienced in a long time. One late afternoon, Abby ran around the sitting room, flapping her arms wildly and laughing. “This is how birds fly, ‘Lena!” she screamed. Elena sat on the floor in the corner, smiling. Grayson sat in the seat farthest from her, his eyes peaking out from behind a newspaper. Elena could feel him glaring at her each time she turned away, but she did not mind. “Papa’s sleeping, Abby,” he said, “quiet down.”

Abby fell into Elena’s arms, whining. “Little bird,” Elena cooed, “don’t listen to your mean old daddy. He’s only jealous he cannot fly too.”

Abby giggled, but Grayson did not appear to be as happy. He sniffed and raised his newspaper further over his face. Smug satisfaction settled in the pit of Elena’s stomach.

From somewhere in the house, she heard Bonnie’s voice, quiet and calm. “Elena, would you please come see me in your brother’s study? I have something for you.” Elena jumped as though the voice had come from right over her shoulder. She was not sure if she had simply heard Bonnie in the other room or if Bonnie was calling out to her in some magical way. Grayson had not moved, nor did he seem to care about what was happening around him. Elena stood slowly, setting Abby down next to him. “Wait for me here, love. I’ll be back.”

She crossed the house and up the stairs suspiciously, listening for some sign that something was about to go wrong. She heard a page of Grayson’s newspaper turn and a wheezing snore come from inside Jeremy’s room. She gripped the door handle firmly, every defense raised should Bonnie attack her, but she sat with her back turned at Jeremy’s desk at the far end of the room. “Close the door,” she ordered. “I do not want the others to hear.” 

Elena did as she was told and Bonnie finally turned to face her, a grave look on her face. “I love my husband very much,” she began. “You may not believe it, but we were a very happy family once.”

Elena took a step back as Bonnie took a step toward her. “My husband… was so… lost when he came to me. Alone. Scared. He had so many secrets. He spoke of you all the time, even before he told me the truth.” She paused and for a moment Elena feared that Bonnie would become emotional. “He loves you very much,” she finally said. 

Her eyes had glossed over, though she looked angry rather than sad. Elena shifted on her feet uncomfortably.“I love my husband,” Bonnie said again. “I respect him and I want every minute he has left on this Earth to be happy. However, I could not detest what he has asked of me more.” She wiped a stray tear from her face and grabbed a small box from the desk behind her. “My husband has asked me to give you something, and though I agreed, I want you to know that I can take it away from you just as easily as I have given it.”

Elena looked greedily at the box in her hands, for she knew exactly what it was going to be. It took every muscle in her body to suppress herself from ripping it from Bonnie’s hands. There was another moment of silence and Bonnie looked as though she was arguing with herself internally, wondering if it would be possible to back out. Though ultimately, she rolled her eyes and slapped the box into Elena’s hands. 

Elena smiled sweetly, and every nerve in her body was burning with excitement. The cracked open the little red box, and within, just as she expected, sat a small silver ring. She slid it onto her finger with a satisfied smile, so happy that she wanted to hug Bonnie as tightly as she could. She suppressed this urge, however, wanting very much not to die at that moment. The looked nice on her slim finger, small and elegant, an almond-shaped stone of dark blue lapis lazuli at the very center. “It will allow you to walk in the sun,” Bonnie said. “He requested I make it for you.”

Elena had not felt this happy in a very long time. Tears in her eyes, she finally looked at Bonnie. “Why?”

“His end is very near, and he has told me that he would like to show you something before that time comes. I think he pities you, as well. He sees how you crave to be in the world. He never wanted you to end up like this.”

Disregarding Bonnie’s very unwelcome opinion of her current situation, Elena looked once more at her hand. Nothing about her felt difference, besides the giddy laughter she could feel bubbling in her throat. “He’s too ill to go today, I’d rather you wait until he is in better spirits.”

Elena nodded, “It is the least I can do.”

She was shivering as the left the study, desperate to run outside right that moment, but instead she took a left and went straight to her brother’s bedroom. The curtains on the window were closed as though he were expecting her, but he was fast asleep, tucked into his covers all the way to his chin. She considered for a moment peeling the curtain back and letting the sunlight wash over her, but she did not want to emerge from the dark without the fresh air in her lungs. Instead, she reached out to a beam of light that had come in through a chink in the fabric. It was only small line, but she feared it still. The hairs on her arm stood up as she came closer, but nothing happened when her hand finally made contact. She could only stare. 

“I was wondering if Bonnie would ever give that to you,” Jeremy said from behind her. He looked as though he had only just opened his eyes, but a warm smile was on his face. “She has had it for years.”

“What do you mean?”

“I asked her to make it for you a very long time ago, and putting up a very good fight, she finally made it for me.”

Elena laughed, “How did you know I would come?”

“Because I know you. You are my sister.”

Elena placed herself on the side of his bed and grabbed his hand, “I will never be able to fully show my gratitude.”

He waved her words away as though they were a pestering fly. 

She decided to drop the subject for the time being. “What did you want to show me?”

“Help me from this bed and we will go.”

“Bonnie asked me to wait until you were feeling better.”

“I am dying, dear sister. It is only a downhill slope from here.” A sad smile crossed his face.” Go to my study and fetch my walking stick, I do not believe my wheelchair will make it where we are going.”

“And you will?”

“I guess we will see.”

Elena followed her brother’s instructions, returning to his study and grabbing the cane from beside the door. Bonnie was already gone by the time she arrived. When she returned, Jeremy was struggling with the buttons on his jacket. She laid the cane across the bed and helped him finish dressing. She was itching to go outside. 

They snuck past the family who had gathered in the kitchen and out of the front door. Supporting her brother with her arm, she stepped into the sun for the first time in almost forty-seven years. 

It was the feeling of swimming in a cold ocean until her bones chilled and her lungs were tight. Her skin had pruned and grown numb, but the light was like coming home and stepping into a hot bath. Blood rushed to the tips of fingers and toes. She felt clean and renewed. It was all very familiar, and then she realized what it was: She was alive. Tears dropped down her face, but Jeremy had the decency to pretend that he had not noticed. She leaned her head back as they walked, soaking up every beam around them. It was the perfect day to reemerge into the daylight, she thought; there was not a cloud in sight. Everything was still. 

Jeremy moved slowly and with great difficulty, and as they approached the unused fields behind the house, Elena considered throwing her brother over her shoulder. It was not a serious thought, though. For a moment, she even hoped that he might slow down. 

It was not long before she discovered that it was the lone tree that Elena watched suspiciously every night that Jeremy wanted to go to. Jeremy was breathing heavily by the time they reached it. Elena lowered him gently onto a patch of weeds, avoiding the dirt around them. He slumped weakly, removing a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing the sweat from his forehead. He was not enjoying the sun as much as she was. 

She straightened and turned to look at what he had brought her to. There below the low hanging leaves of a very large oak tree, sat were two dirty stones. They were large and white, smooth as though the wind had been carving them long before she was born. Elena had not thought anything about them when she saw them from her window, but looking at them up close, she realized that words had been carved upon the rock face. The stone closest to her was upon a mound of dirt that looked as though it covered a freshly dug hole. It read:

 

_Gil Rudy Gilbert_

_Like the sun that sets in the winter,_

_Gone too early._

_1912_

 

The stone next to it shocked her, bringing tears to her eyes once again. For the first time in a long time, she felt true sadness. It was cold inside her, and she wondered if it was because she was in the light of day that she felt that way. It was much older, and dirtier so that she had to wipe the face of it with her hand before she could make out what the words said. 

 

_Elena Marie Gilbert_

_See you soon._

_1865_

 

The dirt below the stone was solid and covered in overgrown weeks. She realized that it was very unlikely that anything had been buried beneath it.

“Why?” she asked.

“They buried John in the cemetery by our parents. None of you, not Damon or Stefan or Giuseppe, received any sort of memorial. Nothing is buried there, I just needed somewhere to come and talk to you.”

Elena sat down next to her brother in the shade of the tree and laid a head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I left.”

“I know.”

“I’ll be buried here too,” he sighed. “Soon, by the looks of it.”

“Jer-“

“I just wanted you to know where to come if you ever wanted to talk to me.”

Elena stared down at her hands, feeling guilty, yet she was also growing angry. Why had it become so hard not to feel? “I will stay and take care of your family if you want… or… I can leave forever. I think they would prefer that.”

Jeremy laughed, “Yes, I think they would.”

“Bonnie can protect them, right?”

“I have no doubt. She will outlive them all.”

“Do they need money? I can-“

“I was actually going to offer you money… if you needed it.”

“I think that means we will both be alright.”

They sat like that for a long time, listening to the sounds of the tree swaying above them. As Elena looked around, she realized she could see the chimney of her old house in the distance. It was the only structure of the entire estate that remained standing, though it appeared that half of his had been knocked down in the past. She could just barely make out the lines of cement between the bricks.

She stared at the remains for a long time. It was hard to imagine that she had once called the sad piece of land home. It felt like a lifetime ago, and when she felt Jeremy shift beneath her weight, she realized it was. Just as she readied herself to make the long trek back to the farmhouse, she saw something moving by the old chimney. Every muscle in her body froze, for she was sure of what she saw this time. He had been watching her, she realized. His back leaned against the bricks casually and his arms were crossed over his chest. She knew if she did not go to him now, then she would miss another chance. 

She hurried Jeremy back to the house, again resisting the temptation to carry him. As casually as she could, she put him into his bed and promised to come see him as soon as he rested. Without another word to him or anyone else in the house, she raced to the door and across the field. It was hard to travel as fast as she would have liked, for the heels of her boots sunk into the dirt with every step she took. 

Nobody was there when she arrived at the remains. “I know you are here!” she screamed, blood was racing through her veins and her breath was raspy. It was time to end this. “Come out now!”

She looked up and saw someone crossing the fields toward the Salvatore estate. He was toying with her, and this made her grit her teeth. 

The old estate seemed to sag after years of disrepair and corrosion from the weather. A crow’s voice rang out in the distance, making her jump but never deterring her from her path. Once she came near the main house, she held still to listen. She dashed off to her left at the sound of his footsteps, but she heard the wind move around him as he fled to another hiding spot. “Coward,” she snarled. “Afraid of me, are you?”

She heard something shift behind her and turned just in time to see a blur rushing toward her. She reached out and caught him by the neck, slamming him to the ground and landing on top of him. She froze, however, her fangs sliding back into her gums and the deep red veins that ran all the way down to her chin faded. She had expected the wrong Salvatore. It was not Stefan, but Damon, smirking up at her instead. She sat back, wide-eyed and silent. “I was hoping you would be surprised,” he said huskily. “I am surprised to see you in trousers. Very fashion forward, Miss Elena, and nice for me.” He raised an eyebrow, his eyes flickering down to her legs which clenched tightly around his pelvis. 

She took a minute to come up with a response, still in shock. Damon seemed to revel in it. “Y-you,” she gasped. “You are-“

“Not Stefan, I know.”

She blinked, “I… I was expecting…”

“You know, I love the sound of a speechless woman, and make no mistake; we can sit like this all day,” as he said this he placed his hands on her knees and pushed them slowly up her legs, “but I think we might speak easier up-right.”

Blood rose in her cheeks and she flew backwards from him in a blur. “What are y-you doing here?”

“I came to warn you of my brother’s newest scheme to kill you, but it seems that I carry old news. That and I could not pass the opportunity to see you, of course.”

She took a deep breath, straightening her back and lifting her nose in the air. Now is not the time to cower, she thought. She straightened the hat on her head and brushed a bit of dirt from the leg of her pants. “You flatter me,” she said dryly.

“How did you know about Stefan? Was I too late to stop him?”

“Stop him? You think I need protection?”

He chuckled, “No, I think he does.”

“Well, he is not here.”

He shrugged and took a deep breath, “Oh, well. More time for me to spend here.”

Elena rolled her eyes, “Well, let me know how it all turns out.” She began to walk away, but stopped short and turned to face him once once. “Actually, it just occurred to me that I don’t care how it turns out.”

His cocky smile faltered for just a moment before he took off after her. “Wait! Won’t you show me around?”  
“You did live here once, I am sure nothing has changed.”

“What if it has? You would leave an old friend defenseless?”

“You know just as much about this place as I do. I have not left that house in weeks, or didn’t you notice?” His cheeks turned a light shade of pink. “How long have you been watching me?” she said angrily. “I knew it was you that I saw by the oak tree that night.”

“I never imagined I would live to see the grave of Elena Gilbert...”

“Answer me! When did you come?”

He squinted into the sun to avoid looking to her eyes, “Perhaps… a few days after you did.”

“I have been here for over a month,” she said incredulously.

“What a coincidence… me too.” She could not tell if he was embarrassed or proud that he had pulled one over on her. He risked a few steps closer to her. “Come inside, I’ll make you a drink.”

“You have been staying here?” 

He shrugged.

She knew that she should not have gone with him. As she followed him up the steps of the back porch, a voice from within herself chastised. She could not stop it from happening; she had spent so many weeks immobile. She wanted something exciting to happen.

The house smelled of rot, and debris covered the floor. Any item that was worth something had long since been looted, but some of the furniture had been left overturned or broken. She recognized the once beautifully polished dining table that was now leaning on only two legs. Someone had ripped the crystal chandelier from above the ceiling above it. The windows in every room had been smashed, likely by the rocks that littered the floor. They climbed the stairs, which groaned under their weight, but allowed them safe passage. The wallpaper in the halls showed evidence of old pictures and painting that had been removed from the walls. The door of Elena’s old room hung from its hinges; she could see the canopy of her old bed had collapsed. She turned away, the whole place giving her an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. Damon did not seem to notice or care as he led her down the hall. He opened the door to his old room and entered, leaving it wide enough for her to follow. She could recognize what used to be his room, but only just so. The once-pristine marble of the fireplace was cracked and eroded and most of the furniture was gone. The broken frame of his bed leaned against the wall by the door. A picture of Damon flashed before her eyes; it was the day Katherine had healed him. 

Damon had made a little nest in the corner with all of his things, though there was not a lot to speak of. He plopped down next to a heavy sack on the floor and dug in the pocket inside of his jacket. He slipped a cigarette in between his lips and extended the case to Elena. She begrudgingly took one and sat next to him. He offered a lit match to her before lighting his own. She inhaled slowly, trying not to stare at him, with his face awash in the light of fire. It had been so long since she had allowed herself to think of him, she wondered if she had forgotten how beautiful he was. She looked away before he caught her, sending ringlets of smoke into the air. “So,” she said, “Stefan has finally come to kill me?”

“It had been a long time since I had seen him,” he said, picking a piece of tobacco off of his tongue. “After… you’re… disappearance, he thought it best that we go separate ways. I followed him for a while, you know, hoping to keep him from making mistakes.”

She smirked, “I see that went well.”

“They call him the ‘Ripper of Monterey’, I hear.”

She shrugged, “It was only a matter of time.”

His lips screwed up into a sort of frustrated grimace, and Elena could tell that he had though about this for a very long time. “You killed his sire, the woman he loved.”

“She deserved it.”

He took another long drag before speaking, for he had so many questions and knew she could leave at any second. “What happened, Elena?”

“Didn’t Stefan tell you?”

“That… I meant… I could have come with you. I waited for you. Everything could have been different.”

She snorted, “Still hanging on to your emotions, I see.”

“It is easier for some more than others to let them go.”

She bit her cheek, thinking of how she had been especially… feeling as of late. “You are right. Everything could have been different. Katherine ruined my life… she ruined your life.”

He thought for a minute. “I was alive… technically. I had you. I loved my life.”

“You bit me,” she said through barred teeth. “You used me. Of course you loved your life. You were free to do whatever you wanted, with your helpless little human trailing alongside you like the love-struck fool she was.”

His cheeks turned red. “Do you want me to say sorry?”

“Sorry would not make a difference,” she sighed. “It is done.” After another moment of silence, she said, “What is Stefan planning?”

He shook his head, “I have no idea, I only came to warn you.”

“Only came to warn me… sure.” She got to her feet, smashing her cigarette beneath the toe of her boot. “I should go.”

He stood quickly too. “You won’t stay?”

“If Stefan is coming to Mystic Falls then I should be with my family.”

Trying to mask his disappointment, he nodded. “How is Jeremy?”

“Dying,” she said and her voice quivered a little as she said it. Without another word, she slammed the door behind her, and he could hear her steps all the way out the back door from whence they came. Though Damon was weary that Elena may never reappear to him again, he could not help but smile at her pain, for this meant that it could be felt.

 

-35-


	36. Myrtle's

**Part II**

**Chapter XXXVI**

**1912**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

Elena struggled to sleep that night, though she desperately wished to be unconscious. Jordan sat, compelled, awake, and vigilant in the chair by the window, and every noise that he made seemed to reverberate through the room as though they were in the center of a great hall. Her thoughts were plagued by images of Damon. First, she only pictured his mouth in that irritating smirk, then his eyes raking against her skin like diamonds on glass. She could still feel his hands running up her thighs. She sat up before her thoughts could run away any more than they already had. She sat up, jamming her fingers into her eyes until she saw blue and green spots. She sat like that for hours, no longer pretending to sleep and thinking of how much she hated him. Then, uninvited, she would again picture his smile or hear his laugh, and she would suddenly be filled with the desire to forget it all and turn over to find him lying next to her. She finally fell asleep with a thick pillow caught in a very tight grip.

She awoke in a very foul mood. Jordan, his back hunched and his eyes struggling to stay open, was unfortunate to be the first to come upon her. She wrenched him out of his chair and fed on him without warning, something he was not used to. She left him to clean himself, granting him permission to sleep, while she readied for the day. 

She stared out of the window as put on her earrings, ignoring the faint hope that she would see Damon watching her from the oak tree. She made a decision, staring at the waving branches, that she would tell him to leave. 

Lucy had just come from the kitchen as she made her way to the front door. “Where do you think you are going?” she asked coldly. 

Elena could not help feeling smug as she adjusted her hat in the mirror above the fire place. “I felt like a walk,” she said.

Lucy opened her mouth to say something but stopped herself when she spotted the ring on Elena’s finger. Elena braced for a fight, but Lucy left the room without another word and Elena heard a door slam somewhere deep within the house. For a moment, Elena tried to remember if she was supposed to keep her ring a secret. She finally decided that it would not make a difference either way, and continued out of the door.

It was brisk day, completely devoid of clouds. She trekked across the field very casually, so it would appear to anyone who was watching that she was very underwhelmed with wherever she was going. This was a very unimportant visit, with absolutely no effect on her at all. Why, she had almost forgotten to even make the trip at all. At least that is what she hoped she looked like. 

She entered the old Salvatore house without knocking, for she was sure he would hear her anyway. She could hear his feet crossing from one end of his room to the other; he was rummaging through something by the sound of it. 

Damon was bent over a sack of things when she entered, shoving his arm down to the very bottom to retrieve a very wrinkled shirt. He was shirtless, of course, and it occurred to her that he was probably that way on purpose. She blinked, willing herself to look at his eyes and only his eyes. He looked very pleased with himself. 

“Damon,” she said through pursed lips. 

He slipped his arms into his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

“You’re arrogant to expect me back at all.”

“Arrogant,” he said, raising a finger in the air, “but correct.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I hope you aren’t feeling too happy that I’ve come.”

“Why is that?”

“I came to tell you to leave.”

He did not seem as hurt by this as she hoped. “I’ll be happy to, but unfortunately, I can’t leave without my brother, and… anyone else who would like to join us.”

“So, that is your plan, then? Follow me around, waiting for Stefan to come running with his stakes raised, and then…”

“I talk some sense into him and nobody I care about gets hurt.”

She raised her hands to her chest as though deeply touched. “My hero!”

He appeared right in front her, taking Elena by surprise. She drew in a tiny breath and held it in the pit of her lungs as he spoke, looming over her with his nose just inches from her face. “We both know that I have not given up on winning back your affection, Elena. It’s only a matter of time before you give in, and if I need to use my poor, stupid brother as an excuse to drive you crazy, then… so be it.”

Elena felt nervousness surging through her veins, and she could feel the blood buzzing right below her skin. She wondered if Damon could hear it. He looked very menacing at that moment, though that is not what scared her at all. Rather, she feared she might give in for just a second. She could feel herself being pulled toward him as though ropes had been tied around her midsection. He could feel it too.

Before he could come any closer, she turned her face away, noticing a pair of shoes lying by the door. “Were you going somewhere?”

He dropped his chin to his chest, masking his disappointment before coming to look at her again. “I was thinking of going into town,” he said buttoning up his shirt.

“For?” 

“I needed to pick up a few things, you know: stamps, some thread, and maybe a tasty little brunette.” He grabbed his jacket that had been strewn across and old chair with only three legs and put it on. “Care to join?”

“Where could you possibly find a safe place to feed in this town?”

“It’s been a long time since vervain was in high demand, Elena. You come upon it in jewelry every now and then, but nobody but the founding families and the exceptionally wealthy can afford to put it in all of their meals or smoke it in their cigars. All I need is somewhere dark and quiet to feed without getting caught.”

“And where would one find such a convenient place?”

“It isn’t far from here, on Mound Street.”

On the outskirts of Mystic Falls was an old street called _Mont_. When Damon and Elena were still very young, perhaps only twelve and nine years old, all of the children, for there were very few before the township was declared, would sneak down to a ravine that lay just beyond the end of the road.A boy named Tyler, the youngest son of Mayor Lockwood – who was not yet the mayor, was rather vulgar for such a young boy. It was he who showed all the boys in town a picture within a locket of his fathers. It was of a woman, though not particularly beautiful, who smiled very widely at the camera. She only wore a silk robe that was wide open. She held her arms above her head and a long string of pearls dipped right between her breasts. Her legs were open to the camera revealing the darkness between her legs. The boys in the neighborhood were all very fascinated by it.

Among Tyler Lockwood’s similar accomplishments, it was he who changed a small piece of Mystic Falls’ history forever. You see, the view from this ravine was quite breathtaking in its day. A ridge of mountains peaked up in the distance, below there lay a field of green. One day, when the children were out much later than their mothers might have liked, Tyler stood staring up at the mountains with a very peculiar smile on his face. He had just made the greatest discovery of his young life: the mountains, which were admittedly very round, both had matching peaks that raised up in the center giving them the resemblance of a woman’s breasts growing out from the ground. The boys all thought this was a hysterical discovery, but Elena never knew what they meant until much later in her life. 

That is how that little road came to be known as Mound, and it was such a commonplace name that even the adults came to know it as such. It was appropriate, then, when little Mont Street came to be known as a very indecent sort of place. The children were no longer allowed to play in the ravine and any respectable person would never be caught wandering near it. It even became the focal point for the sale of alcohol in the twenties. 

At the very end of the road was a little two-story building that looked very plain from the outside. Only one sign hung crookedly on the walls. _Strangers Cordially Welcome_ , it said.The lights always stayed on late into the night. The second Damon mentioned Mound Street, Elena knew that this was exactly the place that Damon was speaking of. 

“Myrtle’s?” Elena gasped. “Oh, Damon, you’re not going to Myrtle’s to feed are you?” 

He laughed, “I reckoned you would feel above it.”

She could feel herself growing very red. “I… they… I had no idea you were so desperate.”

“Oh, it really is a lot of fun. They love me there.”

“And… nobody suspects anything?”

He raised an eyebrow. “As long as I bite them where no one can see.” 

She rolled her eyes and brushed past him so that they were not standing so close anymore. “You’re disgusting.”

“Well, I have to eat, and you aren’t offering to share that little friend of yours, so, off I must go.”

“Wait,” she said, though she could not give him a reason why she needed him to stay any longer. 

He had just slipped on his last shoe and was slipping his cigarette case into his pocket along with a thick clip of money. “Come along, Elena. Give it a chance.”

It was the thought of Jordan that ultimately convinced her to go. She thought of going home to find him reading, as he often did, and politely taking his wrist to satiate her hunger. She made him so comfortable that she might as well have turned the page for him. 

When they arrived at Myrtle’s, Elena realized she had never seen it up close. She could feel nervous sweat forming at the base of her neck. Damon offered his arm, which she begrudgingly took, and they marched up the steps. The door opened before either of them could reach out and open it themselves. The woman who greeted them must have been near fifty, though she carried herself as though she was much younger. She was very finely dressed, but her clothing looked like they was from thirty years earlier. Her hair was streaked gray and stacked neatly on top of her head. She was all eyes for Damon and did not even seem to even notice Elena.

“My, my,” she cooed, “if it isn’t my favorite customer.” She gave him a kiss on each of his cheeks and took another moment to admire him before turning to his guest. Elena smiled, embarrassed, but did not say a word.

Damon gave her a little push forward, “Myrtle,” he said, “This is my friend… Marie. She and I have… similar tastes and I told her how accommodating your girls are.”

Myrtle nodded and took Elena by the hand. “I would love to introduce you, darling.”

The walls were covered in garish pink wallpaper and furniture to match. She took them into the parlor, which was empty. “Sit hear, loves. I’ll fetch you something to drink.” Elena settled uncomfortably on a chair made of velvet, positioning herself far from Damon. He did not seem to mind. He had made himself very comfortable on the couch beside her, propping his feet upon the coffee table. Before Myrtle returned a few girls came down the steps, clunking loudly in their healed boots. Again, they took no notice of Elena, but plopped down around Damon on the couch. He looked right at home. 

“Oh, good, they’ve come,” Myrtle said when she returned, setting a tray down by Damon’s feet. She handed him a glass of bourbon. “Marie, dear, I was not sure what you wanted to drink. I can make whatever you like.”

“This will do,” Elena smiled, pouring the clear amber liquid into a glass that matched Damon’s.

Myrtle nodded and poured herself a cup as well. “You can go up whenever you both are ready, Mister Zachary. I’ve already let her know you are coming.”

Damon nodded and gave the girl on his right a small pat on the knee before standing up. He offered Elena his hand but she didn’t take it. “Mister Zachary?” she said as she followed him.

“I couldn’t very well run around telling everyone my real name, could I? It was my uncle’s name.”

“I remember.”

They turned into the very first door at the top of the stairs and Myrtle closed it quietly behind them. The room was every bit as pink as the rest of the house, but more lavish. Elena though that whoever occupied it must have been very popular, and when she finally spotted her coming from behind a folding screen in the corner, she realized why. She was smaller than Elena, with long dark brown hair that fell in waves down her pale shoulders. “Zachary,” she beamed.

He went forward and kissed her on the hand. “April, you look as lovely as always.”

Jealousy boiled in Elena’s stomach, much to her chagrin. “I’m Marie,” she blurted, just to get her attention and hopefully separate their hands.

April rushed forward and kissed her on each cheek. “I was so excited to hear that you brought a friend, Zachary. She is pretty, isn’t she?”

“I could not agree more,” he grinned, sitting on a plush chair by the window. April scurried over to him and sat on his lap, planting a tiny kiss on his cheek. “I was worried about you,” she said. “You haven’t been to see me in so long.”

“It was only a few days.”

“It was too long, darling.”

The veins under his eyes darkened and it really must have been too long because he went to bury himself in her neck without saying another word. Elena turned to look away because she too was feeling a little hollow, but April hopped up before Damon could pierce her skin. “Just a few more moments, darling. I’m going to fetch someone for your friend. Do you have any preferences, Marie?”

“Preferences?” she asked.

“Oh, blonde or brunette, dark skin or light, big or small, you know, that sort of thing.”

“No, thank you. Anyone is fine.” April left without another word and Elena noticed that Damon’s foot had begun to nervously bounce up and down. “I don’t understand, Damon. Everyone is just happy to offer a vein here?”

“Well, I had to compel them all, which took a while.”

“Did you compel them to be so nice?”

“No, I’m just a really big spender,” he smirked. “They love it.”

Just then, April returned with a very small girl in tow. “This is Charlotte,” she said, and went to tend to Damon without another word. Charlotte, to Elena’s disappointment, did not like she would be a very filling meal, but she was very sweet to Elena.

“Everyone calls me Charlie,” she said.

“I’m Marie,” Elena said awkwardly.

Charlie must have thought that there was not much else to say because she promptly offered her wrist to Elena. Elena peaked at Damon, who was buried deep in April’s neck. “Charlie, would you mind…” and her voice trailed off because she did not know how to phrase her question. It was all very uncomfortable and not nearly as exciting as Elena hoped. Charlie seemed to understand her meaning and laughed, brushing her hair behind her back. “Of course,” she giggled.

Elena was a little rougher than she needed to be, but to here the tiny yelp that came from Charlie’s throat brought bumps to her skin. The blood came out so fast that she could feel it, warm and fresh, pouring over her chin. Soon the room faded away from her and she was swimming in pink velvet until it turned to red and she was drowning in it. 

“Elena,” Damon said, wrenching her back from the now unconscious girl’s neck. April had come to clean her up before the blood stained any of her belongings, though she did not appear to be at all upset. Her neck was void of any wounds. Elena turned, in a daze, just in time to catch Damon offering his wrist to Charlie, who promptly opened her eyes. 

“Why don’t you two run and take care of that stain before it sets,” he said, brushing Charlie’s cheek. “Don’t come back until we have left.”

He turned his attention to Elena once they were gone, mopping up the blood from her neck and chest with his handkerchief. “I would have requested Betty if I had known you were so hungry,” he grimaced.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she said, forcing her eyes to focus. It had been a long time since she had fed like that.

“Nothing,” he chuckled. “Are you feeling well?” Her cheeks were flushed and she was short of breath. He could see the veins in her face and eyes pulsating. He had never seen anything like it. 

“I feel wonderful,” she breathed. Her eyes were alight, and a calm warmth spread over her body like after she finished her nightly glass of whiskey. 

Elena set Jordan free that very night, and returned to the brothel almost ever night after. Her life was much more interesting from then on. She had grown very fond of a girl there named Sage, whose blood was always laced with the faint taste of blackberries. They were her favorite, Myrtle once told her, practically the only thing she ate. That’s why her fingers were always stained a faint purple. Sage’s voice was deep and husky, and Elena loved to hear it crack when she first pierced the skin of her soft neck. Damon preferred a quiet meal, but Elena like for the girls to squirm. She never compelled away their fear. 

Each day, just as the sun began to set, she would meet him at the crumbled fireplace of her old house and they would walk together all the way to Mound Street. If someone saw them, they just looked like any other young couple, taking in the view of the sunset. In reality, it was like they were ghosts of their former selves, walking up the road to go the post office because that was the only way that the two could be alone. All that was missing was Damon’s box full of stones.

They would exchange stories of their travels since they had last met. It became a game of whose stories were more exciting. Elena almost always won, as she had become much more reckless in all the years that they had been apart.However, their conversation always felt as thought someone had drawn a curtain through it, like the ones at the hospital. There was something each of them was holding back, some topic that they did not want to touch. Neither of them ever dared to mention the Centennial Exposition, or Philadelphia, or anything of that nature

One day, when Damon was feeling especially brave, he made the decision to draw back the curtain. The sky was blue and clouds rippled across it, thick and white like the smoke of his cigarette. It was warm that day; winter’s dreary grip had loosened as February turned to March. He could smell the new blossoms of the trees, they smelled like luck.

“Elena,” he said, looked down at the gravel beneath his feet as though it was suddenly very interesting. “I wanted to ask you something, but I don’t want you to be angry with me if I do.”

She smiled, waving a little black fan over her face to ward off the heat. “I’m interested to hear what could have Damon Salvatore sounding so nervous.”

He forced himself to look up at her, taking a breath for courage. “When I last saw you-“

“Yesterday?”

“No… in Philadelphia.”

She smiled as if she had been expecting this question for a long time. “Go on.”

“I’ve heard of something our kind is privy to… I have not met many of us, so I don’t know if it is true…”

“You want to know about the switch.”

“No, not exactly. I wanted to know if you…”

“If I, Elena Gilbert, the warrior or compassion and pity, have turned off my emotions.”

He nodded.

“I deserted my humanity a long, long time ago, Damon.”

“Don’t you miss it?”

She laughed, “Why in the hell would I miss it?”

“Now you’ll never be happy again.”

She spun around to face him, a gust of wind blowing the hair from her face. She leaned her head back to bask in the sunlight, as she often did. A soft smile spread across her face and her eyes were closed. “Do I look unhappy, Damon?”

“You look beautiful.”

“Well, I just can’t help that.” She turned to take his arm once more and they continued down the road. 

“So you do feel happiness?”

“How could I not on a day like this?”

“But you said-“

“I know what I said. Human emotion is complex. I abdicated those emotions that serve me no purpose. Sadness, jealously, fear, love… all of them make me weak, irrational.”

“Were you… had you turned them off in Philadelphia?”

Her mouth set in a hard line, for this was the thing that she had never wanted to talk with him about. Of course she had her humanity then. She had spent a decade marinating in her rage in the years after her rebirth, and that was all she felt. She fixated on Katherine, spending every second imagining what it would feel like to hear her scream. Even when she was again face to face with Damon, her mania was only reinvigorated. She decided to spare his feeling rather than reveal any of this. “Yes.”

“Would you ever consider taking them back?”

She offered a sort of sad smile to him. There was still so much he did not understand. “Vampires are not human. They are not meant to feel as humans do. That’s why we can turn it off, Damon. Besides, they would not be the same if I did. My emotions are like starving children, and nourishing them back to health would be… difficult.”

He wondered what she meant, but decided not to push it any further. They had just arrived at Myrtle’s, and she happened to be leaning back on her stool right outside the door. Damon smiled, tipping his hat. “What are you doing out here, Miss Myrtle?”

She tipped back the rest of the amber liquid in her glass into her mouth. “Just enjoying this good weather, Mister Zachary. I’m assuming that’s why you two’ve come so early.” Elena could smell the brandy on her breath. “Go on in,” Myrtle said dreamily.

They did as they were told, but something seemed a little off upon entering. The entryway and parlor were empty, though business was usually slow at that time. Most of the girls were up in their rooms, readying for the good business hours. Still, Damon and Elena shared a weary look. There was an odd smell in the air, though neither of them could put their finger on what it was. 

They proceeded up the stairs and into April’s room, where they always went. Damon opened the door, allowing Elena to step in first. April’s back was to both of them as she was sitting in front of the small vanity by the window. She made no sound, not even moving to greet them.

“Hello, April,” Damon said. Elena moved to sit on her bed as she always did, leaning her head on the cool metal bar that held up a soft pink canopy. Her mind was still occupied by their earlier conversation. She needed to feed to take her mind off of it. “April?” Damon came up behind her, placing a hand on her should to see if she was well, but before he could say another word, April’s head fell right off of her shoulders. Elena tumbled backwards off of the bed and against the wall, suddenly very alert. April’s body fell like a sack to the side and Damon leapt out of the way just in time to avoid each of her limbs as they toppled to the ground. Her insides matched the pattern on the carpet nicely, Elena thought. 

Damon flew to the door, opening it quietly and peaking out. Nothing had stirred in the hallway. “I think it’s safe to say that we should leave,” Damon said, offering his hand.

“I want to see Sage first,” Elena demanded. 

He looked to her as though ready to argue, but the look in her eyes let him know that she was not going to change her mind. Sage’s room was at the very end of the hall. She was much older than the other girls, and not as popular. Her room was much simpler than April’s. It took Damon back to a long time ago, and he thought, just for a moment, of a girl named Rose.

Sage sat at her vanity much like April, and Damon knew she was dead long before her head fell to the ground. Every girl was the same, their corpses staring with dead eyes into dusty mirrors. 

Elena did not look sad or scared. No, she looked furious, which was fine. Damon was scared enough for the both of them. “It’s him,” she growled. “Stefan, he’s here.”

Damon nodded in agreement and the two flew down the stairs and out of the front door. Myrtle still sat where they had left her. “Come again,” she muttered, but neither of them paid her any attention. Elena needed to get to her family. 

They dove into trees lining the edge of the road, so they could run as fast as they liked without anyone seeing them. They even crossed by the old ravine they used to play at. It did not take very long for them to reach the Gilbert’s farmhouse; Elena could not recall a time that she had run so fast. 

As they neared the garden in the back of the house, Elena rounded on Damon. “Stay out here.”

“No!”

“My family is not fond of our kind, and if I stroll in with you in tow they won’t take it lightly.”

“And if they are in danger?”

“Then I will call for help and fall to my fainting couch, and you can fulfill that irritating heroic impulse of yours and come to save the day. Is that alright?”

He rolled his eyes, “Just… let me talk to him before you do anything. I need to talk to him.”

She turned from him without a word and threw the back door open. She counted the heartbeats from within. One, two, three, four, five… she could not hear the tiniest heart beat of them all. Where was Abigail? She quickly followed the sounds into the sitting room, and found them all doing just that: sitting. Each of them were stiff and looked anxiously to her upon her entrance. Even Jeremy sat there in his wheelchair. There was an unfamiliar head that was not facing her. He sat comfortably, with his feet up on the table. Cigarette smoke billowed lazily above his head. “Elena,” he said, “I must say we were getting a little anxious that you would never come back.”

He turned to face her slowly, though she was not surprised at who she saw. Stefan looked just as he always had: handsome and calm. His eyes were a little wide, giving him the look of someone who would swallow you in one gulp if you looked away for just a second. He smiled up at her, but his teeth were barred like a feral dog. He was well groomed, contrary to what Elena had expected. “We were just talking about you.”

Bonnie glared angrily at Elena, and for a moment Elena wondered who she would fear more if she could fear. She froze her features in ice, acting as though it was very normal for men who wanted her dead to make house calls. “Stefan,” she said coolly, “I was wondering when you were going to visit. Making a lady wait this long? Poor manners.”

He slipped his cigarette between his lips and leaned forward to offer her one. She took it and lit it herself. “I was just talking to your brother here about that pesky little patch of vervain he has in his garden. It has made my stay here very… difficult.”

“He did turn out to be quite the magnate,” Elena agreed. 

“And you, Elena? You look like you’ve done well for yourself. I saw that peculiar stagecoach you’re keeping in the barn; it could not have been cheap. For traveling in the sun, I presume?”

“Handy, don’t you think?”

“Mm, and what about my brother? I know you two have been cavorting about. I was hoping to see him.”

“He should come around in a little bit.”

“Well, until then, let me fill you in on the situation. As I’m sure you noticed, little Abigail has failed to attend this little get together. Though what can you expect when children play on the edge of woods with nobody to mind them?” He shot a pointed look at Lucy, and Elena realized that her face was swollen. She had been crying. “I’ve hidden her away to keep your family under control.”

Bonnie’s gaze had fallen back to Stefan, and Elena was surprised he did not catch fire right then. She knew, however, that if anything happened to Stefan then they might not ever find little Abby. “How sad that you can’t face them yourself.”

“I’m not so pompous that I can’t recognize when someone has the benefit over me. Katherine taught me that. Do you remember her?”

She smirked, flicking her cigarette into the ashtray by Stefan’s feet for Bonnie’s sake. “Of course, Stefan. How could I forget the very reason that my life was ruined before it even truly began?”

He scowled, “Yes, your life if so sad. I don’t know how you bare it.”

“I certainly don’t prey on little children like some depraved barbarian.”

He slammed his fist down on the table, making everyone jump. Olivia gave a little yelp. “I’m done with this. I’ve been very clear with your family and they have all agreed to my bargain.”

“Which is?”

“You give yourself to me, and I will return little Abigail all in one piece, Raggedy Ann doll and all.”

She put out her cigarette in the ash tray before standing. “I’m ready if you are.”

He stood, “You prefer I kill you here?”

“Oh, poor, sweet, Stefan. I also learned a thing or two from Katherine and I am not doing anything until I see that Abby is well and returned to her mother.” A small sniffle came from her left. 

“Fine,” he said, “Elena leaves and Abigail returns.”

He stomped to the front door, holding it open for Elena who exchanged a pointed look with both Lucy and her brother. She needed them to know that everything would be alright. Upon exiting, she followed him around the side of the house instead of into the trees across the road, as she had expected. She looked around for any signs of Damon, but he was nowhere to be found. She wondered if he had heard Abby and gone to save her. They trekked the same path Elena made everyday to meet Damon at the old chimney. 

“Shame what happened to this place,” he muttered, kicking a brick to the side when they reached the chimney. 

“Katherine burned it down. Did she ever tell you that?”

He chuckled, “She always did hate the wallpaper in that room of hers.”

“I’m curious, Stefan. What do you expect to happen when we reach our destination? Do you think I won’t put up a fight?” She could see where he aimed to go. The Salvatore house loomed in the distance. 

“Oh, I hope you put up a fight. It will make it so much more fun when I kill you.”

“Katherine put up a fight, you know. Who knew she could scream so loud. Nobody cared, of course. My friends compelled everyone to just ignore her, no matter how loudly she begged for help.”

He rounded on her, his nose a millimeter away from hers. “Feel proud, do you? You must have felt really big taking her out like that, three to one.”

“I wouldn’t say I felt proud. I felt… happy. Truly. For the first time in a very long time. Every bone we broke, every nerve we severed. Mm,” and chills ran up her spine as she said this, “yes, I felt very happy.”

He slapped a hand over her neck and slammed her backwards onto the ground. “I was going to take you back to my old house, to Katherine’s old room. I thought it would be poetic, my final act of devotion, but I suppose aesthetic isn’t my greater purpose right now.” His hand gripped her so tightly that she could feel his fingers breaking the skin on the back of her neck. She tried to mimic him, grabbing his throat to throw him off of her, but she did not have the leverage. Her eyes were bulging out of her skull and the vein was pulsing in her forehead. If he squeezed any harder, her head might have popped right off, but just as she began experiencing some real self-doubt, something knocked Stefan to the ground next to her. 

She rolled up, grasping at her neck until the skin healed under her fingers. It was Damon who had tackled Stefan, and now he pinned him to the ground, though in a much less deadly way. “Stefan!” he shouted. “Stop! You were supposed to send the girl back!”  
Stefan laughed, “I thought you might be listening in on my conversation with the Gilberts.”

“It’s been a while, brother.”

“Let me go, Damon. Don’t prolong the inevitable.”

“Nothing is inevitable! You can stop this now!” His eyes were big now, pleading.

Elena eyed the space around her, looking for something sharp and wooden. Stefan eyed her suspiciously from under his brother’s grasp. “Damon, if you don’t let me up, then I won’t hesitate to kill you too.”

“You wouldn’t,” Elena smirked. “He’s your brother.”

“Oh, but I would, and it will be all your fault. I will chalk it up to you, taking one more person that I love away from me.”

“Let him up,” Elena ordered. “We will just have to kill him, then.”

“No!” Damon shouted. 

“You have a better plan?”

“He’s my brother, Elena.”

“And he just said that he is going to kill you.” 

Stefan very much appreciated this argument because it provided a very nice distraction. He threw Damon off of him and sped backwards so that he was facing them both. Elena lunged at him, grabbing a brick from the ground and smashing it across Stefan’s head, and jumping on top of him as he fell back ward.There was nothing she could use for a stake, so she began to dig into his chest with her fingers, just below the rib cage in order to reach his heart. Then Damon was tackling her to the side. “Damon,” she growled, coming back to her feet in order to clash once more with Stefan. 

Then all three of them were ripping at one another and it was very hard to distinguish who was who. Elena wanted to kill Stefan and maybe even Damon because he was in the way. Damon wanted to prevent the two from killing each other. Stefan had simply resolved to kill them both, which made it much easier for him since he did not have to worry about not hurting someone. Elena’s hair had been ripped from its intricate updo, and Stefan had a conglomerate of twigs poking from his black which Elena kept stabbing into him at random in hopes that she might get lucky and reach his heart. Elena’s only advantage was that Stefan kept trying to rip her head from her shoulders instead of just ripping her heart out. She imagined it was because he wanted her to suffer.

She did not know how long they fought, but Damon eventually became such a nuisance that she turned her attention completely away from Stefan and twisted Damon’s nose like a dial until it was practically upside down. His eyes filled with tears and he fell backwards, giving her and Stefan some much needed alone time. 

He had stomped on her leg until it cracked, but she ignored the physical pain, shoving it to the very back of her brain just as though it were mental. She knocked him to the ground and crawled on top of him, replacing her into the hole she had already once dug through his shirt. “If you kill me, you won’t find the girl,” he gasped.

She felt her way past his liver, and she could feel the smugness spread over her face. “I have a hunch, Stefan. Tell me if I’m wrong. I thought it was really interesting when you mentioned my carriage because I’ve had it hidden away since I arrived in Mystic Falls.” His eyes widened. She felt her hand slip over his lung that expanded and contracted as he struggled to breathe. “Why would you be snooping around the barn? I’ve never seen you come when I watch at night, so there is only one conclusion. You see, I think you saw it when you were hiding her there. It is the perfect spot, isn’t it? None of us would think to search so close. You wanted us to think you hid her on the edge of the Earth.”

“What if you are wrong?” he gasped.

Then she found it, his heart, slimy in her grasp. “Vampires are good trackers, Stefan, you should know that.”

She could hear Damon crack his nose back into its rightful position with a cry of pain. “Elena,” he gasped, rolling onto his knees. “Elena, please.”

She struggled to get a firm grasp on Stefan’s heart. “It’s the only way, Damon.”

“He’s the only family I have left, Elena.” He grabbed her arm but did not dare force her hand, for he feared that he would inadvertently rip out Stefan’s heart.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and she truly meant it, but she knew she could not wait a moment longer. “Goodbye, Stefan. I wish this could have been different.” 

Damon dove at her just a second too late, and then Stefan was dead. Elena tossed his bloody heart to the side, wiping the sweat from her forehead and indirectly leaving a streak of red in its stead. Damon pushed her away from his brother, clasping at his shirt and crying into his chest. 

She sat to the side for a moment, unable to think of any words that would ease his pain. She lay her leg out straight in front of her, she could feel it healing. Stefan’s skin had turned gray, but his eyes were open, giving him this eerie look as though he was still alive. She reached forward to shut them, but Damon grabbed her wrist. “Don’t you touch him!” His eyes were glazed over and his face was so twisted in rage that he was barely recognizable. 

“He would have killed me!”

“I could have stopped him!” He grabbed her by the throat as though to finish her off for Stefan’s sake, and then his face crumpled and his head fell to her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry,” she said, over and over. Again, she could feel her unwanted emotions on the threshold of her mind. “Just turn it off,” she whispered, in part to herself. “Turn it off, Damon, my love. Just leave it all behind.”

He raised his bleary eyes to her, and she took his face into her hands. “We can be together forever, Damon. Just turn it off.” 

She leaned in and brushed her lips against his. When she leaned back he opened his eyes slowly, and he felt nothing.

 

-36-


	37. The Porthole

**Part II**

**Chapter XXXVII**

**1922**

**Chicago, Illinois**

A vampire who has completely deserted their humanity is highly uncommon. One who lives forever learns very quickly that something they need more than anything – more than blood even – is a reason to live. If one truly feels nothing, no misery and no joy, then what is left? And there the problem lies: a vampire cannot truly live without their emotions, but that means that all of the pain and guilt lingers like phantoms in the shadows of their mind, just waiting for a beam of light to fall upon them. 

This leads to the existence of the dangerous sort of vampires like Elena Gilbert. She could never find the balance between feeling and unfeeling. Every feed, every kill piled upon their conscience and the only way to bury her guilt was to feed. This meant that Damon spent his days trailing behind her with a broom, sweeping her messes under the rug and pretending that she was not making him crazy. Over and over she would promise to behave; after all, even without emotions, they were not animals. 

Uncommonly, Damon was the better sort of vampire without his emotions. He never had any trouble controlling himself. Nobody would ever guess that the handsome man walking down the street drank blood to live. He never spilt a drop, and he never left any witnesses behind.

Chicago was the perfect place for both of them to relocate once they had reunited. The city had become a hub for the supernatural over the last century, and with such a large populous, nobody was the wiser to the things that go bump in the night. Elena’s recklessness was a much smaller threat to their well-being in such a place. 

They found a small bit of happiness there, though there was always a barrier between them; unspoken resentfulness lurking inside of them both. Neither of them ever bothered to acknowledge their feelings. Once they spent a couple of years feeding and compelling and dancing and drinking until everything was a blur, they seemed to forget about them altogether.

It was a clear summer’s night. Elena was surrounded by noise and people, encompassed by the hot air and warm bodies moving all around her. They were buried deep in the Earth, in a club called _The Porthole_. The only way into the club was down a series of stairs through the back of a restaurant called _Bon Ton_. Nobody could say how deep in the ground it really was, but it was not until you were halfway down the stairs that one could hear the low rhythm of the music emanating from its walls. The place was dingy and poorly-lit, not to Elena’s taste, but it was Damon’s favorite. “Full of dames dumb enough to offer their necks for free,” he would always say. He wasn’t wrong, of course. Plenty of humans had a morbid fascination with the dark depths of the supernatural, and sometimes they ventured into them willingly, hoping for a little excitement perhaps. 

Elena had not yet indulged that night, though she was quite hungry. Damon promised good news, and she hoped that they could share a glass of homemade whiskey and maybe a tall, dark someone in celebration of whatever it was. The only problem was that he was almost two hours late. 

For the greater part of the evening, she sat stone-still, watching the crowd move around her and imaging ways to torture Damon when he finally showed his face. I could kill every thing in this room, she thought. See how he likes cleaning that up. Her daydreams only grew more malevolent as each second passed, until she discovered a much more entertaining course of action. She had not seen him at first. People moved across the floor like ripples in the water, slowly swaying back and forth to the smooth music that filled the air. Then the crowd broke apart for only a moment. His his eyes cut across the empty space and pierced hers. She sat captivated for a moment before she grabbed her drink and moved to a table with a better view, off to the far-right of the stage. He really was something to marvel at. 

A small band flanked him on each side as he crooned into the microphone before him. His voice was deep and slow, running over her skin like soft velvet. She felt quite hypnotized by the sound of it. His skin was dark and glowing like bronze in the low light. 

She did not know how long she had been sitting there until the slow melody of the song faded away and was replaced by an upbeat ditty. She went to take a drink from her glass on the table in front of her, but someone had snatched it from beneath her grasp. “Lorenzo,” she said sternly, taking the glass back before he could drink from it. “Why don’t you get your own?”

Lorenzo had come into Damon’s acquaintance soon after they arrived in Chicago. He was very rich, so rich, that he owned almost every building above and around them. Elena loathed him. “I compelled this pretty little thing to bring me a drink,” he smirked, “but it seems she got lost in the crowd.”

“Well, isn’t that a hoot?” she said dryly.

“What’s eating you?”

She took a drink instead of answering.

“Where’s Damon?”

She rolled her eyes and her head rolled a little with them, she had quite a bit to drink. “Said he’s meeting with some fella’ who’s supposed to be the big cheese around here.”

“He didn’t mention anything to me.”

“Can’t blame him… I wouldn’t trust a sap like you either.”

He pursed his lips. “Why don’t you eat, love? Nobody likes a wet blanket.”

“Except for cold fish.” She replaced her gaze upon the man on stage, “Who is that up there?”

“New talent.”

“He looks delicious. Is he- “

“Edible?”

She nodded, making no attempt to mask the annoyance on her face.

“Only if you promise not to finish him off. He’s the sixth singer I’ve hired on in three months.”

She stood abruptly, making no promises, and emptying her glass in a single gulp. She suddenly looked very happy as she danced into the crowd. “Don’t wait up!” she called to him just before they swallowed her up. A saxophone player had taken center stage by the time she approached. She caught the stranger’s eye, giving him a coy smile and a nod of the head. He hopped down from his place on stage and snagged her around the waste, spinning into the crowd. “I was wondering when you were going to come say hello,” he said above the crowd.

“I’m shy,” she lied, batting her eyes.

“Don’t be,” he smiled. 

“What’s your name?”

“James.”

“Well, let’s not beat gums, James. Come home with me.”

+++

Damon always said they would leave Chicago some day, though it was never clear when. Neither of them ever fully settled because they always just expected, without saying, that they would one day leave. However, once the war was over, the city was thriving and Damon was fully immersed in the seedy underbelly of it all. Elena had no attachment to the city, not to their lavish apartment or their few acquaintances. She could settle perfectly well anywhere else, but she could never bring herself to leave Damon behind. Though she could not feel love anymore, she was still deeply attached to him. It was something beyond the barriers that she had placed in her mind; something concrete, physical. 

Damon strived for months and months to find something they could share. He needed her to want to stay with him. And he had finally done it. He was incredibly happy as he listened to the loud hum of the car engine on his way to meet her. He was late, really late, but once she heard the news all would be forgiven, he was sure. 

It was late by the time he had arrived, and the room was murky with smoke. He spotted Enzo by the bar and sat next to him. “Seen Elena?” he asked.

“Slipped out a while ago, mate.”

Damon sighed, disappointed. “Then I might as well have a drink.”

“I wouldn’t keep her waiting any longer. She didn’t look too happy when she left.”

He paused in waving the bartender over, his finger frozen midair. “Do you know where she went?” 

“I’m not a mind reader, but there’s only so many places you can go with a hearty meal trailing behind you.”

He shook Enzo’s hand and quickly departed without a word. He did not have to go far, her favorite hotel was only two blocks away. “It’s the floors,” she would always say. “Blood doesn’t ever stain the finish.”

He marched right past the front desk, for he knew exactly what room she would be in. The smell of blood filled his nose as he pressed his ear against the dark wood of Room 319’s door. He could hear a heartbeat sputtering from somewhere inside. “Elena,” he whispered. 

He heard a thud and a creak in the floor but she didn’t say anything back. He gripped the door handle tightly, ready to break it down, but it swung open easily, much to his surprise. Elena faced away from him, looking down upon a dark lump on the ground. She was completely bare aside from the flecks of blood that left streaks across her skin. “Well, well,” she said. “Look who finally came to visit.” She slowly turned to face him and the front of her was completely drenched in blood. “James said you wouldn’t.”

“James?” he asked, indicating the lump on the floor. “That’s his name?”

She smirked, taking a tiny step towards him. “Jealous?”

“No, I’m ecstatic,” he quipped. 

“You asked me to stop ruining my clothes,” she shrugged. It was true; Elena had always been a very messy eater. 

She left tiny red food prints with every step she took towards him. Everything was quiet except for the sound of James gasping for breath in the corner. The only light in the room came from a small lamp in the corner and it cast eerie shadows over her body. Her hair was short and curly, framing her face. He could not tell if she had painted her lips red or if it was simply an excess of blood. Something menacing lurked behind her dark eyes, which were wide and round.

“When were you planning on letting him go?”

She cast her eyes down on James as though she had forgotten he was there, absently running her red fingers over her lips. “It hadn’t occurred to me.”

Damon made to pick up the man from the floor, but Elena stepped in his way. “I’m not done,” she said, but that was all she did to stop him. He bit into his own wrist and mashed it into James’ mouth. There was cough and a terrified yelp as the life sprang back into him. “Calm down,” Damon growled. “You won’t remember anything from this night. Go home.” Liam scrambled to his feet but Damon stopped him again, buttoning the top buttons of his shirt and shoving his coat into his hands. “Don’t let anyone see that,” he ordered, indicating the wound that peaked out from behind his stained shirt. 

Damon shut the door behind him. He drew in a breath, ready to give a long lecture about why Elena should be more careful, but she was directly in front of him when he turned to face her. There was an odd expression on her face; something solemn. The blood was still wet and glistening on her skin. “Sorry,” she said quietly.

He reached out and pushed her hair behind her ear, brushing his fingers against her clavicle as he did so. She closed the distance between them and cupped his face with her hand, as she often did. He felt there was something that he should say, that words were hanging thick in the air between them, but he couldn’t get a grasp on them. Elena stood on her toes and placed a tender kiss on his lips, leaving a streaking of blood in her wake. 

Chills ran up and down his back. He took took her chin between his fingers and moved her head to the side, trailing kisses down her neck and onto her shoulders “I’m sorry,” he murmured into her. “I did not mean to keep you waiting.” Elena smiled a little to herself as he moved on to her chest. His head floated down between her breasts and over her stomach until he was on his knees before her. She could see the veins beneath his eyes when he looked up to her. “Hungry?” she smirked.

He laughed a little and pulled her closer to him by her backside, and she gave a small, delighted shriek. “You should have waited for me,” he breathed. “We could have made a night of it.”

“We can make a night of it now,” she giggled.

She led him to the bed and helped him out of his jacket as he undid his tie. When she came to undo the buttons of his shirt, however, he snatched both of her hands into one of his. He took her by such surprise that he had already tied her wrists with his tie before she uttered a word. He pushed her backwards onto the bed and crawled over her, leaving kisses up her legs and abdomen until he reached her face. “I’m getting tired of cleaning up your messes, you know.”

“But you’re so good at it.”

“Don’t speak,” he ordered as he attached her wrists to the iron bars of the headboard. 

She laughed. “You can’t compel me, Damon.”

“Don’t speak,” he said again, “and I’ll reward you.”

Just as she was going to ask what kind of reward would come of her good behavior, his hand disappeared between her thighs. She gasped. “And what if I’m feeling loud?”

“Then I get the prize.” His hands disappeared from her skin as he buried his head in her neck. She gasped a little as she felt his teeth sink in. He pulled back, proudly smacking his licks. 

“Fine,” she exhaled. “I won’t make a peep.”

The game was on, and Damon was determined to win. He didn’t move nearer to her at first. He only trailed his hands over her skin so that they barely made contact. The hairs on her skin stood up in the wake of his touch and she felt like she was being slowly wound into a knot. Then he lowered his lips to her skin and his kisses felt like ghosts. She could feel herself starting squirm beneath his touch, which is just what he wanted. He waited until he could feel her arching her back up into him. She was silent, but only barely so. “What’s wrong, darling?” he cooed. 

She didn’t make a sound, but looked at him resentfully from behind her hooded eyes. He moved in between her legs, placing a little kiss on her knee. “You seem squeamish.” He slid his hands up her thighs and just when she thought he was going to touch her right where she wanted, he slid right past and up her stomach, cupping her breasts. She bit the inside of her cheek. 

He lowered himself on top of her so his face was just above hers and she sucked in a tiny breath. “Tell me you love me,” he whispered. “Tell me you love me and you win. I’ll give you whatever you want. Right now.”

Her mouth set in a hard line, and she said nothing. She arched her back into his stomach as if to say, “This game isn’t finished, jackass”.

He gave a little shrug and kissed her on the cheek. “Oh, well. Winning will give me just as much satisfaction.” 

Back between her thighs, he sat very still for a moment; so still, that she thought he left her there for a moment. Her legs buckled and she gave a little moan as she raised her head to check to see if he was there. “Tut, tut,” he smirked, and sank his fangs into the inside of her thigh. The sound of her groan made him smile. As usual, he had not spilt a drop of blood. 

“Let’s try again, shall we?” 

He didn’t wait for a response, and kissed the spot where he had bitten her, which was already smooth again. She braced for another round of just-barely-there touches, but he took her by surprise by diving straight into the heat of her body. It shocked her so much that she cried out. He pulled back, laughing. “Are you even trying?”

“Not fair,” she groaned as he sunk into her other thigh.

He dove at her again, but this time she was prepared, and she bit down on her lip until it bled. His fingers ran up and down her center, drawing the wetness around her clit. Damon could feel the predator inside of him, preying on her vulnerability. She was at his mercy, for once. She could feel it too, and her eyes never left his. Every nerve in her body screamed and thrashed and begged for her to say something, to move closer, but she was absolutely still.

He let his fingers slide inside of her, and Elena breathed her assent. Then he was gone and her body went rigid. He slid inside of her over and over, removing his fingers just as her body began to relax. She kicked her legs in frustration and Damon began to laugh. “You’re so impatient.”

She couldn’t wait for another second. With a defiant look, she pulled as hard as she could until the deep golden thread of his tie began to split down the middle. The skin of her wrists were raw, but nothing could stop her from escaping her imprisonment. He looked up just in time to see her tear away from the headboard. She wrapped her still-bound hands around the back of his neck and pulled him up to face her. “I lose.” Her voice was jagged and her cheeks were flushed.

He watched with amusement as she struggled to undo the buttons of his shirt once more, but she didn’t care. She needed to feel him against her. He sat back and took her hands into his, muttering something about patience as he undid the knot of his ruined tie. Once she was free, she flew back to work on the buttons of his shirt. He just leaned back to watch. She let out a frustrated noise from the back of her throat and finally just tore through the buttons, forcing his arms out and throwing the shirt on the floor. “I always thought that shirt was ugly,” she breathed, and then her face was against his. 

She pulled him against her as she laid back, and he struggled to get out of his pants with her legs wrapped firmly around his waist. She ran her hands down the firm length of his chest and wrapped her hand around his length, which was already hard and aching for release. She ran its head up and down over the heat of her center, soaking it in her wetness. He let out a frustrated sigh, for he had not won at all. He was at her mercy once again, and he couldn’t be happier. 

He stumbled clumsily trying to position himself just so. “C’mon,” she sighed. He slid into her softly and she clawed at the back of his neck in delight. Elena was already so close by the time he began to pump in and out of her with quick rhythm. “Yes,” she mouthed. “Please.” He reached his hand between her legs once more and began to rub her with each stroke. Her eyes closed as warmth spread throughout her belly. Her mouth stuck open in a rigid O, but no sound escaped. 

Damon slowed a little as her body began to shake, lowering his head down to kiss her breasts. When she opened her eyes, she felt the closest thing to love as she brushed her fingers through Damon’s hair. 

She pushed him by the shoulders onto his back and through a leg over him. She gripped his chest with her fingers as she rocked back and forth on top of him. He reached down to guide himself into her, but once she sunk down on top of him, she held his hands firmly above his head. He shut his eyes and let the sound of her breaths and the feel of her skin encompass him. I love you, he wanted to say.

She pulled his hands to her breasts as she sped up on top of him, feeling herself clench and unclench around his length. She buried her head in his shoulder as he came, letting him wrap his arms tightly around her. 

He didn’t say anything, but kept his eyes tightly shut as she sat up, smiling slightly down at him. She trailed her lips across the red handprints that were streaked across his chest. 

He opened his eyes just as she fell to the side of his body and slithered up his side and into the crook of his arm. Her big eyes looked up into his and she appeared to be very proud of herself. “I can never win with you,” he sighed.

He thought she would say something further, but she turned away instead, quickly diverting her eyes to the nightstand. “Cigarette?” she said curtly.

His eyebrows furrowed, but he said yes anyway. He watched her figure, only illuminated by the dim light of the lamp in the corner. The olive skin of her back looked like the pictures of far away places he’d seen in books, the toned muscles rising beneath the skin like dunes carved from the wind. He reached out, if only to feel her soft skin for a moment more, but she slipped off the bed before he could reach her. 

Her things were strewn across the floor and it took a moment for her to find the tiny case she kept her cigarettes in. She returned to Damon’s side, sitting tall, and fumbling with the clasp on the side of the case. It took a moment, squinting in the light, for Damon to realize that this was not the new case he had just bought her. He had gotten it as a surprise in a little shop on the south side of Chicago, made of shiny sterling silver and little roses sewn into the soft red fabric of the inside. The one in her hands, however, was made of dull bronze and seemed as though it had lived in the bottom of a very crowded trunk for much of its life. The clasp carried a small, faded ruby in its crown, and Elena could not seem to pull it open. The name Elizabeth was engraved in small letters on the back.

Damon glared at it, never offering Elena any help in opening the stubborn clasp. Elena drew in a sharp breath, trying to control her shaking fingers. He could see the frustration growing in her crinkled brow. She let out a breath only when it finally sprung open. She leaned back against the headboard and passed one of the small, white sticks to him before reaching for the matches in the little, yellowed pocket in the case. She lit both of their cigarettes with the same match. “Where did you find that old thing?” Damon said, feigning nonchalance.

“Can’t remember,” she shrugged. 

“I’ve never seen it before.”

“Maybe you don’t pay me enough attention.”

He turned to face her even if she wouldn’t do that same. “You know you are all I ever think about.”

She rolled her eyes, “Don’t flatter me.”

For a moment, he wondered if she would be nicer if he still had his head between her thighs. 

“Where were you tonight?”

“Hm?”

“I waited for you and you never came. Where were you?” 

Damon took a long drag from his cigarette. He had completely forgotten the news he had once been so excited to tell her. “Well,” he said, taking another moment to empty his lungs, “I was having dinner with that man I told you about a couple of weeks back, don’t you remember?”

“No.”

“Right, well, his name is Mr. Parker.”

“Parker?”

“Yes, Parker. The witch.” 

“Witches,” Elena spat. “What could you possibly want with a witch?”

“He’s a very successful business man.”

“Looking for a sugar daddy?” she smirked.

He turned onto his side to face her, resting his head in his free hand. He ran his thumb up and down her arm. “I’m trying to make a living, so that you may have the life you deserve. No more snatching wallets and compelling ourselves nice apartments. “We can go wherever you like. We’ll be rich.”

“Really?”

“That place I had you wait in tonight is his. He owns a string of clubs from here to New York. They’re undetectable to any undesirables, you know, coppers and the like.”

“I knew there was something fishy about that place!” He laughed, but she was not as pleased. Now she understood why she had not just torn the place apart, leaving it for Damon to clean up. She was bewitched. “So what?”

“Well, I buzz Mr. Parker and tell him that I have a way for him to make a pretty stack of cash. His clubs have everything our kind needs: underground, active all night, illegal, and full of people willing to venture into the darkest recesses of their desires. Why not make a club just for us?”

He sat back, very satisfied with himself, though Elena looked unaffected. “Your conversation ran two hours long then?”

“Elena,” he pouted, running his hands up to her chin and pulling her into his embrace. “I never meant to upset you. I thought the club would be able to entertain you while I waited.”

She strained against his touch but not hard enough to break free. “I’m not a little puppy that you tie to a pole while you’re away. I am not your pet. You are not my keeper. You are not my life.”

“I was once,” he frowned.

She wrenched against him, but he hardened his grasp. “Let me go, Damon”

“No!”

In a swift motion, she smashed the butt of her cigarette into his face. He flew backwards off the bed, pushing Elena with such force that she flew into the wall behind her. They faced each other, naked and chests heaving. Damon grasped at the scorched skin of his cheek and Elena’s mouth twisted into an angry snarl, her teeth barred. It was the closest Damon had seen to a smile in a very long time. “I won’t say sorry anymore,” he growled. “I have been apologizing for too long, and forgiveness is overdue.”

She shook her head. “You don’t deserve mercy. That’s what you never understood. All you have done to me and you only ever expected me to forgive you. You were always so quick to bat those pretty eyes of yours, compel your guilt away, and I was always too senseless to see you for what you really were.”

“What is that, Elena? What am I? Tell me how you really feel.”

“The villain, Damon, don’t you understand? I was so quick to blame Katherine for my misery. Even after I died and everything came back to me, it was her. I was going to have a child… I was going to have your child… and it died.” A burst of cold fluttered in the bottom of her stomach and it was something she had not felt in a very long time. Her cheeks grew hot and her throat tightened. “I was never able to grieve, you didn’t allow me to, like I were a child who needed protection. You took away my grief and my love… and my child!” 

“I’m the villain?” he screamed. “Oh, that’s rich! I suppose I ripped Stefan’s heart out?”

“Better his heart than my own,” she sneered.

“Whatever’s left of it.”

She cast her eyes down at her feet, and she feared for a moment that would cry. The room was suddenly too quiet. “Take me home,” she whispered. “I want to go home.”

-37-


	38. To Dust

**Part II**

**Chapter XXXVIII**

**1932**

**Santa Fe, New Mexico**

There was something about the way a hard-working woman tasted, Elena just couldn't explain it. She'd had her fair share of debutants and Daisy Buchanans, with their silky hair and shimmering dresses. The taste of their powdered and perfumed skin always tainted the taste of their silvery, sweet blood. They were too soft, too breakable; Elena was always left the task of gathering up the remaining parts of their bodies from the floor and disposing of them, lest Damon find them and spend the rest of the night scolding her. No, she had come to like the stronger women, who fought with their calloused hands right up to their final breath. The new decade had brought plenty of these sorts of women into her grasp. They came in all colors and shapes, some of them still carrying the faint scent of their once-expensive perfumes on their skin. Elena loved the feeling of biting into their strong necks, their firm muscles squirming beneath her. 

She had her current prey in a corner, her hand around the woman’s neck while she thrashed at Elena with her thick arms. Elena smiled, a familiar rush of adrenaline pumping through her veins. "Are you afraid?" she grunted. 

The woman whimpered under Elena's firm grasp, her rough hands scratching at Elena's face. "Please," she begged.

"Answer me!" she barked.

"Yes! Yes! I'm frightened! Please, let me go!"

Elena fought her way to the woman’s neck, her fangs barred as she dodged the woman’s swinging fists. The woman squeaked out another muffled plea, but Elena had wrapped herself so tightly around her neck that she could hear her blood vessels popping under her hand. 

Elena pulled back as the woman’s breathing grew heavy. Her dirty toes had begun to curl and she knew it was time to finish her off. 

"Please," she whispered, in a final attempt to save herself. Heavy tears fell down her face and onto the front of her dress. 

Elena wiped a tear away with her thumb. “Don’t worry, dear, it’ll be over soon.”

"My children," the woman gasped as Elena’s fangs reentered the wound in her neck.

Elena stiffened and pulled back, wiping blood from her face. "What did you say?"

The woman's eyes were unfocused and struggling to stay open. "My children," she breathed. "They won't have anyone to take care of them."

-

Elena stumbled, inebriated by the fresh blood in her system, up the stairs in search of Damon. She needed to confide in him what she had just seen, for it had been many years since anything had shaken her so. 

She had last seen him in the kitchen of the inn they were staying at. She thought she had found the perfect woman to sup on right away. She was from Oklahoma, seeking work after her father’s farm went under. She had no friends and, Elena incorrectly assumed, no family. Damon had stuck around, looking for someone to his liking. He never came back to their room, but he had to be lurking about somewhere. Elena turned the corner, wondering whether she might find him still in the kitchen. No, she thought. He would have fed by now and he never would have done it in the there. 

A lamp fell to the floor, rousing her from her thoughts. It was she who had knocked it over. She clumsily picked it up from the floor placed it back in its corner, leaving the shade crooked. She could hear all of the muffled voices around her, blending into one another. “Where did I leave my other shoe?” a man said. “Five for the whole night,” a woman said elsewhere. She leaned against the wall next to her, closing her eyes and begging her head to stop spinning. "Listen," she whispered aloud to herself. "Listen for his voice."

She tried with all of her might to focus, to stop picturing the woman’s tears as they poured from her eyes. A child cried from somewhere below her and she felt her stomach heave. “Damon,” she whimpered, hoping he would hear her. She had no idea why she felt this way. It felt as though she had overeaten, but her dinner was relatively small. She feared something might be wrong. 

She started up the next set of stairs, steadying herself upon the railing. A laugh came from above her, and though it wasn’t one she heard often, it was one that she could recognize anywhere. She followed its sound, up the stairs and through the narrow hallway. There were only two doors to go through, and she rammed through the one closest to her.

The sight that greeted her was not as much shocking as it was confusing. She hadn’t realized that she had been crying, or that it was even possible for her to cry, until the vision of Damon's wide, startled eyes swam before hers. She gripped the chair at her side, narrowing her eyes. She focused first on Damon, whose head was not upright but sideways, resting upon the olive skin of a stranger’s crossed legs. Her eyes had great difficulty working their way up to the stranger’s face, and for a moment she thought she could feel fear blossoming in the pit of her stomach. 

First, she saw the dark brown hair that had fallen lazily from the pins that once held it in place. A hand had burrowed itself in the stranger's neck, wielding a small handkerchief to what smelled like a small wound to Elena. Her stomach churned at the scent. Then there was the blissful face of a girl, no more than nineteen years old, who smiled warmly up at Elena like she was an old friend. Her hand combed through Damon's hair, even as he slowly sat up to face Elena, the girl's hand followed right along with him. 

He eyed Elena cautiously, ready to move at any moment, but she swayed where she stood and her skin looked a sickly green color. "Elena," he said, "are you alright?"

She stood silent for a moment, never taking her eyes off of the small hand that moved up and down his head. She wanted to rip it off, but felt she might vomit before she took her first step. "I-" she began, but she had forgotten why she had come to find him in the first place. "I think I ate too much," she said.

Damon stood, straightening the collar of his shirt and casually placing himself in between Elena and the girl. "Do you need to sit?" he asked.

She bit the inside of her cheek, for she did not know what she needed. He took her silence as a yes and lowered her slowly onto a nearby chair. 

"Who's your friend, Damon?" the girl asked from behind him.

Bile arose in Elena’s throat. Damon's nervous eyes glanced behind him, but he didn't answer. He kneeled beside Elena instead, brushing the stray hair from in front of her eyes.

"My name is Rayna," the girl continued.

Elena glared up at her. She was so young, so beautiful, so full of life. The smell of blood was still strong in Elena's nose, but it smelled old, making Elena feel even sicker. She eyed the towel in Rayna's hand. "Can I borrow that?" she said.

"This is embarrassing," Rayna giggled, "but I'm afraid this one is dirty. Would you like me to find a clean one for you?"

"Yes," Damon agreed. "We can get you a fresh towel and some ice chips if you like."

"No," Elena frowned, "I want that one."

Rayna frowned a little, though more out of embarrassment than anything, but relinquished the dirty cloth nonetheless.

Elena tossed it to the side without giving it a second glance, her eyes narrowing once again on the girl's neck. Not a mark remained aside from a red stain on her skin. "You fed her," Elena said, not looking Damon for confirmation. He had always been so vehemently against sharing their blood with humans. It was too dangerous if something were to happen to them, he said.

"Oh, he's very talented," Rayna smiled. "Never spills a drop, and once he's done he always makes sure I'm nice and healed."

"Always?" Elena asked. Damon had averted his wide eyes to look at his shoes, which seem very suddenly interesting to him.

"For as long as we've been seeing each other."

Elena had to stop and think how long they had been staying at the inn, but she couldn't even remember the name of the town they were in. "How long is that?"

Rayna looked to Damon as though he could offer any insight, but he never looked up. "A month, almost."

"A month?"

"A little less, maybe."

Elena leaned back in her seat, begging her brain to stop spinning around in her skull for just a moment enough for her to collect herself. "Th-that's so good of him to take care of you like that."

"He's a real cherub, I'll tell you that, and funny too! I've never met someone so funny in my whole life!"

Elena turned to Damon, her eyes like two branding irons, burning the words run for your life upon his forehead. "That's so strange that you say that, Rayna. I've always thought he was a bit of a scrub."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "What? You mean this Damon? Oh, there's no possible way you could mean that my Damon is a scrub."

Elena's jaw clamped down on her tongue so hard that she though she might bite it off. She closed her eyes, blocking every sound from her brain. Now she understood why she had heard Damon laughing. They were just talking, enjoying each other's company. She held the picture of his head in her lap in her mind’s eye for a few more moments before she emptied the contents of her stomach at their feet.

-

There was dust everywhere. It tangled Elena's hair and she could feel it grit between her teeth. There wasn't a living thing for miles in every direction, and the veins in her face were blue and twitching beneath her skin. Every so often, she caught a glimpse of Damon's pale face grimacing from beneath a mask of dirt. He looked inhuman, like a monster.

She felt more human than she had in a very long time. How long had they been walking? Three days? Three weeks? Her lungs felt heavy and desperate as they struggled to inhale and exhale through the dirt that coated them like a thick wool. She couldn't hear if Damon was struggling as much as her, for the wind seemed to be blowing directly into her both of her ears. However, she had noticed that his pace had slowed greatly over the last hour. 

Elena had killed Rayna, of course. It was not a total shock to Damon, admittedly, but a disappointment nonetheless. The problem was that Rayna was not just some tramp, wandering from town to town with no one to care. Her father owned the inn that they were staying at. So, as any irrational, angry, and drunken vampire would do, Elena killed him too. Then she burned his place to the ground.

They thought they could simply run until they reached civilization, like they always did, but the towns here were few and far in between and the sun, which she swore was closer to the Earth than ever before, quickly wore them down. Occasionally, a dust cloud would blow over them, coating them in another layer of brown, and bringing reprieve from the unrelenting heat of the sun. Their skin was beginning to dry out, the palms of their hands turning blue and numb as if they were slowly desiccating. Their rings had grown white-hot and both had grown increasingly fearful that they would stop working at any moment. 

"How much longer?" she pleaded.

"Just keep walking," he growled. Instead of finding something to say, she lowered her head against the wind, digging the heals of her boots into the dirt beneath her and flexing the muscles of her legs as they began to trek uphill. "You really are somethin'," he breathed, "you know that?" He turned to hear her response, but she never even looked up at him. "Why do you do this? Hm?"

She wiped the dirt from her brow and her hand dropped limply at her side, but she said nothing. 

"Elena!" he shouted. "Are you listening? Do you ever listen? What goes on in that head of yours? Do you only think of ways to torture me?"

"Of course not, darling," she muttered with false sweetness.

"How long has it been, then, since we have been able to settle for more than six months? Can you remember?"

"Not since Chicago."

"Do you remember why we had to leave Chicago, Elena?"

"Of course I remember."

"You killed someone in plain sight."

"Only because you told me that I couldn't!"

"You're so-" and he paused, weighing the worth of his words.

"So what, Damon?"

"Stupid! That's what you are!"

"No, I just don't care."

"That's right you don't!"

"Don't start."

He stopped walking altogether, forcing Elena to do the same. She finally looked up from the ground, squinting into his red eyes. She too had a vampire's face. "Why couldn't you just let her go?"

The sound of Rayna's screams echoing over the cackling fire bounced around her brain. She couldn't help but smile. "I was ready to go," she said, sounding very bored. "You're always saying that I should be careful about leaving witnesses."

"You are so full of shit."

She turned away from him and began to walk, knowing he would follow. "What happens when we run out of places to run to?” he called after her. “We couldn't stay in Chicago, we couldn't stay in Los Angeles, not New Orleans, or New York. "Because of you, we're stuck in the middle of goddamn nowhere!" He was screaming now, his voice fading away with the wind. "No food, no shelter, nothing!"

Neither of them said anything after that. There was nothing left to say that they hadn't screamed at one another a thousand times.

The barren landscape screamed all around her, and she let her eyes swim along the endless miles of dirt. In the horizon, she could see the curve of her waist carved into the peaks of the mountains. The sound of all the cries and screams that she was never allowed to shed howled with the angry wind. Her temper and bitterness scorched like the sun. Of all of the empty towns she had passed through, their loneliness and vacancy reflected in her dark eyes. She knelt down to run her fingers through the dirt as Damon walked ahead of her and it was like touching her own skin. She was the depleted earth. Used. Betrayed. Slowly blown away by the wind. She looked to Damon, trudging ahead of her and rage trickled like boiling water down her spine. "I need to feed," she muttered. "Soon."

-38-


	39. Happiness

**Part II**

**Chapter XXXIX**

**1934**

**Memphis, Tennessee**

Make no mistake about misery; though she is a demanding beast, she is never strong enough to hold you forever in her persistent grasp. She climbs into her lovers' beds, slithering through the sheets like a snake, but she can only writhe beneath her victim for so long before she grows tired. Just as a sliver of sunlight breaks through a chink in the curtains, her eyes close, and her victim can flee – if only for a moment. 

Damon and Elena were often miserable, even though they did not know it, but so was everyone else back then. How could they compel a man's wallet from his pocket if the wallet doesn't even exist? They never lived in squalor, per se, but they were a long way away from the big and bustling cites with their lavish hotels and apartments. Damon kept them hidden in the small towns on purpose; it was the only way to keep Elena out of trouble. The finest inns they could find still had cracks running through the ceilings like lightning bolts, and the wallpaper was torn and stained. They blew back East to New Mexico, then to Texas, and further into Tennessee, fleeing from the ever-present dust that hung in the air thick as smoke.

They'd been settled in the same town for almost a year, something Elena had not done since Chicago. Memphis was large in comparison to anywhere they had lived since Chicago. Damon refused to relocate at first, but Elena, whose lust for blood and chaos was insatiable, promised that she would be on her best behavior, no, a Saint's best behavior so long as she did not have to spend one more night stuck in another tiny, insufficient, and boring town. "I'll even go to church," she said, draping her hand over her heart in mock-sincerity.

Though Damon doubted her ability to control herself, he packed their things and they stole away in the night, for he was just as desperate as she was to get away. She maintained herself well, to her surprise. Memphis, though still too small for her tastes, suited them both well. Damon opened a club there, the fifth of its kind, where the liquor was cheap and the blood was never-ending. His other clubs, even the first in Chicago, had all fallen from his control each time he and Elena had to flee town. He always intended to get them back, but he knew it would take time for Elena to gain control of herself. At least that's what he like to tell himself. Until then, he managed the club, which he named The Moonstone, much like he had done in Chicago. 

Prohibition was over, but the particular drink of interest in this club – blood – was and always would be illegal, so they set up shop in an old speakeasy below a barber's shop. They needed a sanctuary, somewhere to feed in peace, so Damon and Elena gathered humans willing to sell their blood. The system was reminiscent of his and Elena's time spent at Myrtles so long ago, though nobody was compelled this time. Times were desperate and people had to feed their children somehow. The business was so successful that they started providing other vampire-oriented services like providing fake identification. 

Elena took charge of the girls, becoming a sort of Den Mother to them all. It was her job to direct the customer to the correct woman (or less often, man), collect payment, and provide protection. If they were desperate enough, some of the girls would sell other types of services. It was one of those things that nobody ever talked about. 

The night was over and the dance floor was clear except for empty bottles. Elena swayed in between tables, humming the chorus to You've Got That Thing by Ted Lewis. It had been a long night; her and Damon had fought over something stupid. She couldn't even remember how it started, but like all of their other fights, it raged out of control. She'd slapped him across the face, he pushed her to the floor, she smashed a vase over his head, and so on. They had "made up" just as quickly, however, barricading themselves in Elena's office. "I thought they were moving furniture at first," one bartender exclaimed to the other. "If I had known what they were doing, I wouldn't have just barged in!" 

"Well, if my wife and I fought half as often and half as hard as they did," the other muttered, "we would probably fuck all of the time too."

"I can hear you," Elena called. Neither spoke again until she was gone. 

She trudged up to the stairs and through the door to the storeroom of the barber shop. From the main room, she could see Damon sitting on the bench outside, smoking a cigarette. She appraised him for a moment, his jaded eyes stained orange by the rising sun. He had cut his hair the shortest it had ever been, always slicked back with the expensive tonics. He'd grown out a sleek mustache that he liked to twist through his fingers when he was stressed. Elena hated it, which made him like it all the more. 

She silently joined him, tucking her cold hands into the crook of his arm. "That vase you smashed was an antique," he sighed, blowing smoke from his lungs along with his words.

"As was the painting you tore in half."

He smirked a little, nodding his head. "It was an ugly painting."

"It was an ugly vase," she retorted.

They laughed and she rested her head on his shoulder, ignoring the freezing cold that permeated the stockings beneath her dress. "I fired Gail tonight," she said after a moment of silence.

"Really?" Damon asked. "She was one of your best girls."

"She's pregnant," Elena said stiffly.

He sat back, a little nervous. No wonder she was in such a foul mood earlier, he thought. He couldn't understand why, but the thought of children always put her on edge.

"She doesn't know yet," Elena continued. "I didn't want to tell her."

"That's alright."

There was another pause and for a moment Damon feared that she would start in on him again, but she simply took the cigarette from between his fingers and slipped it in between her lips. The city had already begun to stir, busses and milk trucks going past them. They sat like that until the sun had risen past dawn and all of the staff had gone home. Even the barber, Tom, arrived while they were there, offering them a short greeting. 

"I'm sorry," she said finally, looking up at him. "You know how I get."

He kissed her on the cheek, "I'm sorry too."

And so, even though they were so often miserable, sometimes the sun would rise, and just for a moment, they were at peace with one another.

** 1936 **

The day had been abysmally hot, surpassing even the hottest day of the previous summer. No one that could help it was caught out on the street for long periods of time. Parents kept their children inside, and those who could help it stayed home from work. Just outside of Damon and Elena's apartment, a young woman collapsed from exhaustion and was brought inside to cool down. Finally, the sun relented and sunk into the sky slower than anyone would have liked.

Even so, Elena sat in front of her large vanity, drawing in her eyebrows and painting her lips pink. She scowled, annoyed with her reflection. Girls these days just looked so silly, she thought, with their red lips and blue eyelids. It didn't suit her one bit. She still wore her hair short and curly, but never as short as the girls sometimes cut their hair lately. She preferred everything about her to look more understated. It made her feel more mature, as she should; it was her birthday. 

"You ready?" Damon said, throwing his jacket to the bed and securing his tie around his neck.

"I'm getting too old for this," she frowned. 

He paused, losing hold of his knot and allowing the fabric to fall from his neck. "Don't be silly," he said, coming up behind her in the mirror.

"Why can't we stay in?"

"You only turn ninety years old once," he said. "We're going out."

She stuck out her bottom lip, staring at her reflection once again. "Where?"

"It's a surprise," he said, returning to the task of securing his tie around his neck.

She sighed, grabbing the powder puff from its tray and tapping it to her nose. 

"Speaking of," he said, "I need to call and confirm our reservation. Get dressed. I'll be back."

She finished pinning her hair in place before turning her attention to the box upon their bed. It was her first gift of the day: a dress made of silk and covered in champagne-colored sequins. It clung to Elena's waste and legs, easing out just above her knees and reaching all the way to the floor. The back dipped low and was held up by thin straps. She ignored the blooming urge to cover herself with more fabric, instead pairing it with a crème-colored fur. There was no doubt that it cost a small fortune, but like Damon said, you only turn ninety-years-old once in a lifetime.

She stepped in front of the mirror, holding different earrings in front of her lobes, throwing each back into her jewelry box with an annoyed sigh. Damon stopped dead in his tracks when he returned, his golden cufflinks only half secured. She turned to face him, a self-conscious hand over her belly. "What's the matter with you?" she said, a sheepish frown covering her face.

He blinked, looking for words."You look beautiful," he said, his eyes wide. He inhaled as though to say something else, but instead rushed forward, taking her into his arms. He brought his hands up around her face and brought it to his, kissing her softly. She raised her eyebrows, surprised by the sudden gesture. Three words hung in between them, unspoken and covered in the dust of dormancy. When was the last time they had said "I love you," Elena wondered. She blinked, breaking away from his never-ending gaze and stepping out of his grasp. "When are we leaving?"

He took her to The Balthazar, the nicest restaurant in town. The main dining room was dimly lit, allowing the moonlight to wash through the big arched windows around the room. They sat in the corner farthest from everyone, hand in hand and thigh to thigh.

Elena was only slightly disappointed when they ordered steak and lobster, for she wanted "real food." However, Damon surprised her once more, for once the plates of their entrées had been cleared, dessert came. Elena’s veins were alive and buzzing with champagne as a young woman made her way to de table. Beautiful and sheathed in a red chiffon dress, she positioned herself comfortably in between the two and said nothing. Damon smiled at Elena from behind the girl, the veins in his eyes turning red. "This is two gifts in one," he said.

"Oh?"

He gazed down at the woman's necklace, a tight string of pearls, secured in the back by red ribbon. Elena reached out to touch them, running her hands over the smooth surface, made warm by her neck. She too felt the veins under her eyes grow tight as her fangs slid from her gums. Damon pulled the ribbon apart, freeing the woman's neck to Elena's vice grip. She only stayed for a moment, demonstrating uncharacteristic composure and looking for Damon to join her. She kissed him gently, leaving the taste of blood on his lips before returning to the girl’s neck, where he joined her. 

They returned to their apartment drunk and lively. The doorman nodded disapprovingly as they stumbled up the steps and into the elevator. Elena dropped her purse immediately upon entering their front door. "It was a lovely day," she hiccupped. "It really was."

He nodded, losing his jacket somewhere along the way to the bedroom. He turned back, as though to search for it, but ultimately decided against it. He paused outside the door, watching as Elena admired herself in the mirror, pulling pins from her messy hair, when he suddenly heard a barking.

He froze, staring at the closed door at the end of the hall.

He had almost forgotten, he realized. "Don't be mad," he blurted to Elena, trailing toward the door.

Her eyes widened, watching as he crept out of sight. "What did you do?"

It was silent for a moment when a small ball of black fur tore across the carpet and toward her feet. Taken by surprise, she flew backwards and into the wall behind her, ready to attack. Damon laughed at her, and the fur ball barked from below. "What in the hell is that?"

"It's a puppy," he grinned.

Her eyes widened and she knelt down to the floor. Finally, a face peaked up at her from beneath the fur, its wide eyes looking expectantly up at her. She dropped the fur from her shoulders and held out her arms, the Pomeranian gratefully jumping into her hands. She gasped delightedly, desperately suppressing the urge to crush the poor thing. It licked her neck and face, barking and whining. "What is its name?"

He shrugged coming to sit on the floor beside them. "I've been calling him Sir Poops-A-Lot."

She laughed, burying her face into the mass of fur. "I don't like that."

"What about 'Runt'?"

She raised the dog to look her in the face, staring deep into its eyes as though it could somehow tell her what its names was.

"Or peewee," Damon joked.

"Goliath," she said, "that's what I'll name him."

Damon laughed again, "You're kidding"

She kissed Goliath's face again, ignoring the urge to kiss it a thousand more times. "You can be David," she said to Damon.

He rolled his eyes reaching out to pet the dog once more. She leaned into him, laying a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Damon."

He took her hand into his, lacing their fingers together in her lap. "Happy Birthday, Elena." 

** 1939 **

Though it was after midnight, the night was still young at The Moonstone. Elena sat perched in the corner, bouncing her foot to the sound of music sinking through the ceiling above her. Her favorite song was on. 

She soon noticed a trail of footsteps coming nearer and soon she heard them trailing down the hallway, landing in front of the door that sat a few feet across from her. A fist struck the cheap green wood of the door. "Come in," she called. 

The door swung open and she was met by the face of a stranger, which was unusual; new customers couldn't just happen upon the club, they had to be invited. "Mrs. Salvatore?" the stranger asked. 

The name brought an apparition of a grin to her lips. "No," she said distractedly, "you can call me Elena."

She shook the thought from her mind and appraised her visitor. He was tall, even from where she was sitting, she could tell he was at least a head taller than her. There was something a little devious about him, but that was the look of everyone around her these days."My name is Dr. Matthew Honeycutt. Call me Matthew."

Elena raised a skeptical eyebrow, looking him up and down. "You are a doctor?"

"Once," he smiled sadly. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "My stomachs not as strong as it once was, I suppose."

She nodded in understanding, gesturing to the chair across from her desk. "Sit. I'll pour you a drink."

He removed his hat, setting it on the arm of the chair as he sat back. Even with her back turned, she could feel his eyes sweep across her silhouette as she poured whisky from its crystal decanter. She took a glass for herself and handed the other to him before taking her place behind her desk once again. "What can I do for you?" she asked.

He smirked, shaking the ice around his glass. "I came by recommendation."

"Oh?

"A friend of yours sent me. A woman named Caroline."

"Caroline?" Elena smiled. "You know her?"

"Very well. I just left her behind in Prague. She sent me ahead to scout out apartments, and told me about an old friend with a very special business."

"And here you are."

"Here I am."

"So am I to expect her soon?"

"She'll be here within the month."

"Excellent! How can I help you until then, Matthew?"

"Your mate said you have excellent fare, even for a man as fastidious as myself." 

"Of course," she said, "I think our girls will suit you just fine. We even have a few men, if you prefer."

He shook his head, "I prefer women, not to young, not too old. A blonde. They'll be clean, I assume? Healthy?"

"Of course."

"I also must demand that she doesn't have any bites."

"Come with me," she said, deserting her glass of melting ice. Aside from the door Matthew came from, there was only one more in the room. She led him down the narrow stairway and through the dim hallway. He twirled his hand nervously around his hands. "Its quiet down here."

"I burn everlasting bundles of white sage and witch hazel in each of the girl's rooms. For privacy.

He nodded, but said nothing more. They stepped through another door and into a well-lit sitting area. Finally, he could hear the sound as a cloud of light smoke encircled his body. Girls sat around the room, some reading and others playing games. None of them seemed to notice or care about Elena or her guest. She didn't pay them any mind either. The room was draped in bright golds and oranges. In the corner, a young man sat almost as though he was sleeping with an older woman draped over his neck. A giggle rang out from somewhere behind him. Matthew shifted uncomfortably, unsure as to who was a vampire and who a human. Elena didn't turn back. Instead, she once again led him through a door and down another set of stairs. They walked down a long hallway lined with doors, all with a big golden number nailed to the wood of each door. They moved closer to the wall to allow passage of a man and woman. The woman led the way with her hand, a sad smile on her face. Her skin was sickly and her hair was thin. The skin of her arms and neck was covered in crescent shaped scars. The man behind her, though healthier looking, wore thin and blackened clothing. He looked from the back of the girl’s head to Elena smugly, raising a hand in greeting. 

"Goodnight, Trevor," Elena smiled.

"'Night, ma'am."

"Oh, and Alice," she said, forcing the girl to stop. "Come see me in the office when you're available." Elena took another moment to evaluate the girl’s arms before carrying on as before. 

Finally, they came to a stop outside of the room labeled '37'. She knocked lightly, and Matthew quickly took off his hat, nervously brushing his hair to the side.

"You've never done anything like this before?" Elena smirked. 

"I'm afraid not." 

"Don't be nervous," she said, and though he did not hear the footsteps approach, the door opened anyway. The woman's dark blue eyes never met his, but seemed to look anywhere but, settling nervously on Elena instead. Though she was smiling, there was still a little bit of a pout in her lips. He couldn't bring himself to look away from her. "Rebekah," Elena said, "I wanted to introduce you to Dr. Matthew Honeycutt."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," he said, offering a hand.

"Likewise," she said, only staring at the tips of his fingers but never extending the gesture herself. 

"Rebekah is our newest resident," Elena explained. "How long have you been here?"

"Just three days," she replied. 

"You are sure she's unsoiled?" Matthew said awkwardly.

Elena suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "Rebekah, dear, would you like to speak to Mr. Honeycutt-"

"Matthew."

"Matthew," she corrected, "you could sit and talk for a while.”

Rebekah nodded, standing back to offer passage into her plain room, still never looking him in the eye. 

"She'll escort you back when you're done, Matthew. We'll talk then.”

He nodded his approval and Rebekah shut the door quietly, shooting Elena a nervous look before disappearing behind it.

Elena was surprised when the two returned to her not even thirty minutes later. They exchanged a short goodbye, Matthew placing a small kiss on Rebekah's hand before she descended down the stairs once more. Elena sat up, turning down the volume of her small radio and setting the papers in front of her to the side. "Well," she smiled, "I hope you were satisfied."

He smiled and as he spoke she could smell the blood on his lips. "She is very lovely," he sighed. 

She nodded in affirmation. "I knew you would like her, but I must warn you now: the unbitten are very expensive." 

He shrugged, "I'm sure I can handle it, whatever the price."

"Very well," Elena smiled. "You should also know that I demand payment up front."

He laughed a little, digging his hand into the jacket of his inner pocket. It emerged with a thick wad of cash, secured by a gold clip. He put the thick of it directly in front of her. "Consider it my down payment for the month, and I don't want her seeing anyone aside from myself."

"Of course," she said, taking the cash without even glancing at it. She didn't have to look at it to know that it was much more than she would have asked for. 

***

Dawn was fast approaching, and just as quickly as she had heard the footsteps filtering into the club did Elena hear them filing out. Just as she had dropped the last of that night’s profits into the safe under her desk, she heard footsteps tracking up the stairs from the dormitories. She turned just as Alice entered the room, sleepily tugging her coat over her shoulders. "Good morning," she said quietly. 

"How was your night?" Elena asked.

"A little slow," Alice said glumly.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Alice took a seat across from Elena's desk, sinking into the dark leather with a sigh. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes," Elena sighed, "Have you considered my offer?"

Alice's rubbed her hand lightly over the raw skin of her arm, biting her lip. 

"You know I can't allow you to service our customers looking like that."

Tears formed in the corners of April's dark eyes. 

"You should take some time off," Elena sighed. "Let yourself heal, get some sun, and come back when you're ready."

"I can't afford to wait that long," April sobbed. "My husband broke his hand and lost his job at the mill. I can't get another job looking like this."

"Does he know how you make money now?"

She nodded, "It was his idea."

Elena bit the inside of her cheek, annoyed. "What about what I suggested the other day?"

"I can't afford your blood, " she sobbed again. Just weeks ago, Alice's condition had grown so severe that customer's refused to pay her normal rate, Elena was forced to lower it. Though not an unheard of occurrence, it was not typically common. Most girls paid a small fee in exchange for a vile of Elena's blood rather than suffer the long-term deduction of pay due to their scabby appearance. However, there was - every now and again - a girl who could not afford the fee. These girls were called 'Scraps' and they were so cheap that even Elena could not bring herself to take a cut of their earnings as she did to the other girls. Alice, however, was a particularly gruesome case; the lowest earning person in the entire operation. "My son," she wept. "He's very ill."

Elena stiffened, her sharp nails digging into the wood of her desk. "You never mentioned a son."

"You never asked."

Her jaw set in a hard line and she could feel the pity begin to spill through her belly. Instead of shoving the emotion back down, she allowed it to wash through her. It wasn’t normal, and she didn’t like the feeling. Just this once, she thought. "How old is he?" she forced through gritted teeth.

"Not yet two."

"You aren't nursing him in this condition, are you?"

"Of course not," Alice sniffed. "His doctor warned against it when he first noticed my arms."

Elena glanced down; even the girl's fingers were covered in small bites.

Her mind made up, Elena reached into the drawer at her side. She let out a small sigh and brought a small glass vile from the drawer, settting it on the desk in front of Alice. "Take it," she ordered. 

Alice's wet eyes glanced from her to the bottle and back, her hands clasped tightly around one another. "I can't-"

"Take it," Elena repeated, "and this." She offered her hand to Alice, placing a folded ten dollar bill her in her palm. Alice's eyes began to water once more, but Elena held up her hand, silencing her. "I don't want to see you here for the rest of the week."

Alice's hand shakily wrapped around the bottle, curiously investigating its contents. "And you'll have to drink that now. I can't let you run off with it."

"Are you sure?"

Elena leaned back, her lips pursed.

Without another word, Alice uncapped the small bottle and tipped the contents into her mouth. Her face fell into itself, revulsion filling the lines under her eyes. For a moment, Elena feared she would vomit on the new rug. She offered her glass of whisky for Alice to wash everything down, which she gladly accepted.

"What was that?" she gasped. 

However, Elena was watching as the skin of her neck slowly lost its angry red color, fading to the ivory white of her skin. Her hair was slowly growing darker and her lips turned a soft pink. The dark skin under her eyes slowly faded away along with her frown. "What was that?" she asked again, a wide smile on her face.

Just as Elena opened her mouth to speak, the door behind them opened and Rebekah appeared from its depths. Elena snatched the bottle from the desk and replaced it in its drawer. Alice shoved the money into her pocket. "You wanted to see me, ma'am?"

"Yes, Rebekah, come in." She stood to walk Alice out, placing a hand firmly on her shoulder. "I'll see you in a week," she said firmly. 

Alice turned on her unexpectedly, wrapping her arms tightly around Elena's neck and muttering a quiet 'thank you' into her shoulder. She had gone before Elena even had a chance to respond.

Flustered, Elena returned to her desk, gesturing for Rebekah to sit down. "How did you like Matthew?"

Rebekah smiled, "He was very polite."

"Good, and were you comfortable?"

"Yes, ma'am," she said, though she didn't look as though she understood the question.

"Matthew has requested that he remain your only client. What do you think of that?"

Rebekah shifted uncomfortably, too scared to say no. "If that is what you think I should do…"

"Be honest."

"I… was hoping to be like Sarah." Sarah was one of the prettiest girls in Elena's employ, and thus one of the most popular. She had a regular meeting with Elena every two weeks to heal herself with Elena's blood. Though she was very obviously wealthy, she was also the most heavily guarded, as she posed the greatest threat of turning; she spent more time with vampire blood in her system than without.

Elena reached into the same drawer she had pulled the vile of blood from, retrieving the money that Matthew had given her earlier, holding it so Rebekah could see. "This is the down payment," she said.

Rebekah eyed the cash hungrily. Even after Elena deducted her fees from the stack, she imagined there would still be enough to buy herself anything she wanted. Her family was once the most affluent in New Orleans, but her father had lost every penny in the Panic of 1929. She practically drooled at the thought of having that much money in her hand. "I won't see anyone else," was all she could think to say. 

Elena nodded, replacing the money in the drawer and thus extinguishing the fire in Rebekah's eyes. "I need you to understand that this is a very rare opportunity, Rebekah."

"Yes, I understand."

"No one here has ever had an exclusive patron. You must treat the situation carefully."

"What do you mean?"

"Under no circumstance should you allow yourself to be lured by another and allow them to feed on you. No matter how much money they offer you. Even if you think Matthew won't know. He will."

Rebekah nodded nervously. "I understand," she said again.

"You still have the bracelet I gave you?"

Rebekah lifted her arm robotically, revealing the small silver bracelet on her wrist. A small, triangular charm was all that was attached to it, and even from her seat Elena could see the small bud of vervain that had been cast within the silver upon the bracelet's creation. "Never take it off," she instructed, though Rebekah didn't have a choice. All of the girls were compelled to never take off the bracelets unless Elena asked them to. 

Elena nodded and stood, signaling the end of their meeting. "I want you to come to me if he ever says anything strange."

"Yes, ma'am. 

-39-


	40. Valentine

**Part II**

**Chapter XL**

**1939**

**Memphis, Tennessee**

"Take the roses downstairs. I want each of the girls to have a few to hand out."

Elena smiled, allowing safe passage to the delivery boy into the lower confines of _The Moonstone_. He smiled blandly back at her, the compulsion obvious in his eyes. He would not remember a thing.

Just as the door closed behind him, the other opened, Damon striding into the office with a secretive smile on his face. Elena stood to greet him, leaning across her desk to kiss him on the cheek before he sat across from her. "Happy Valentine's Day," he greeted. 

She grimaced, a little annoyed. "The cost of roses went up this year," she said, marking something down in the book in front of her. 

He shrugged, "It's nothing we can't handle."

"I don't know why you insist on handing them out."

"We mark it with the scent of human blood and place a barrel of roses outside of Tom's shop. Any vampire wouldn't be able to resist."

She rolled her eyes, "It doesn't bring in as many clients as you think."

He leaned forward in his seat. "Is something else bothering you?"

For a moment, she thought not to say anything. She looked up through her eyelashes at Damon, his earnest face compelling the words from her mouth. "Dr. Honeycutt is-"

"Demanding, vain, condescending…"

Her mouth set in a stern line. "Yes."

"Have you ever met a vampire who was not any of those things?"

She laughed a little. "I suppose not."

"He brings a lot of money in," he reasoned.

"I know, and he's Caroline's… friend, I suppose."

"So what is so horrible about him?"

"He's asked Rebekah to come live with him for the time being."

"Not unheard of. You are against it?"

She gritted her teeth in irritation. "I cannot deny him. I've made it clear to the girls that they are free to go as they please, but… Caroline. What if she is angry with me for allowing it?"

"Then she will be angry."

"Very helpful," she said, her lower lip protruding glumly. 

"Don't worry yourself," he stood to pour them both a drink. "You’ve told me of Caroline's mate, her true mate. Surely Matthew was only meant to be a pet of some sort. I doubt she will be truly upset."

"I suppose," she said, taking the glass from his hand.

"Let us forget about it. If Caroline is angry, then she can take it up with Matthew."

Elena nodded, rubbing her thumb across the cool condensation on the glass. 

"I have a gift for you," Damon said, hoping to bring her out of this mood.

"Oh?"

"I won't give it to you just yet."

"Oh."

Damon chuckled, finishing his drink and rising to his feet. "You are going to love it."

* * *

_Your present is awaiting you at home._

_I will meet you there._

_Happy Valentine's Day,_

_D._

Elena looked up from the small, almost unreadable curve of Damon's handwriting, a suspicious scowl on her face. "Damon gave you this?"

The man who delivered it played his trumpet ever Saturday at the club, yet she still could not recall his name. "Yes, ma'am."

She read the letter once more before giving him a dismissive nod. Without another word, he left and she was once again alone in her office. She slipped her arms into her plush red coat; Damon's gift last Valentine's Day. If one looked hard enough, they might notice the small stain of blood on the lapel; she'd fought with Damon that night and killed two pedestrians that had the misfortune to pass her on the street. She shook the thought from her head, relatively happy with the night's profits, and slipped on her leather gloves. She hated to admit that she was truly anxious to get home and see what he could have possibly gotten her. 

She took the car home, feeling unusually lonely without Damon in the seat beside her. Where could he have gone? It was early in the morning; the sun had barely broken the horizon, but Elena felt alert. 

"Thank you," she said quietly as she stepped out of the car, not looking back at the driver. Their apartment building loomed ominously over her, though it was not particularly tall. She shook the anxiety from her head, annoyed, and stepped forward into the lobby. 

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as she approached her front door. She could hear Goliath's tiny heart beating rapidly as she approached, for he could probably hear her coming. She smiled when she opened the door, the tiny ball of fur yipping and scratching at her legs. "Hello, darling," she cooed, snatching the dog up and closing the door behind her. It quieted once it was comfortably in her arms, and she buried her face in the abundance of its soft coat - always careful not to squeeze to hard. 

She appraised the living room, looking for her gift, but found nothing out of the ordinary. Goliath still in hand, she trailed to the bedroom, resigning to ready herself for bed. Flicking on the overhead lamp, she realized something was glowing from their bed. She set the dog on the floor, moving carefully to see it more clearly. A thick necklace lay flat across the duvet, not glowing, but shining. There were so many diamonds, she wondered how long it would take to count them all. She reached out to caress the face of the largest diamond situated in the center of them all, feeling as though she had been entranced by its beauty. 

She forced herself to look away for long enough to notice a note that been placed at its side. 

_I have one gift left and so do you._

_Wear this - and only this - for when I return home._

_D._

She was suddenly very excited, and very pleased with Damon. If she had known he was going to be so generous, she would have gotten him something more than cufflinks, but she was not at all worried that she would not be able to make it up to him. She rushed to the bathroom, her ears alert for any sound of his return. A shiver of pleasure ran up her spine as she secured the cool metal around her neck. As instructed, she stripped down to nothing, letting her hair fall out of their pins, just brushing her shoulders. 

Damon was quiet when he arrived, hoping to catch her off guard, but she was already behind him, guiding him toward their bedroom with her hands over his eyes. "Happy Valentine's Day," she whispered. 

He laughed, raising his hands to grasp her wrists and pull them from his face. "You got my gift?”

"Mhm."

He reached behind himself to run his hand along the soft skin of her body before dipping into the pocket of his coat. "I have one more."

She took it from his hands and set it on the table at their side, not even glancing at it. "Later," she insisted, pulling his coat from around his shoulders. As soon as it was off, he turned to face her in a second of incredible speed, pushing her into the door. He looked down to appraise his gift, heavy and beautiful, that hung from her neck. "Beautiful," he breathed as he brought his eyes to her face. She took to undoing his tie as he slid his lips down her neck. "I should have gotten you more," she breathed, unbuttoning his shirt. Damon responded with nothing more than a stifled moan into her neck. "Your gifts were so extravagant."

He came to face her again, his eyes hungry. "I suppose it was worth it," he said.

She brought her lips to his and moved to undo his belt. "What do you want? I'll give you anything."

His eyes looked unsure, always guarded for fear of saying the wrong thing. God forbid he offend her and ruin everything before it even began. "Anything," she said again, but before he could respond her lips were on his neck, his chest, and sliding down the ridges of his abdomen. Her hands nimbly worked to finally free him of his belt, the leather cracking in the air when she ripped it from the loops of his pants. He watched, her devious eyes never leaving his. She pulled his underwear down, but before he had a chance to step out of it, she took him, already growing hard, into her mouth. He sucked in a breath and his head fell backwards as her warm mouth slid deftly over him. She watched him, pleased that if she asked him right this moment, "Whose gift was better?" he would say, "Yours." 

He slipped his hands into her hair appreciatively, pulling her to him and pushing her away. He moaned her name quietly, almost a ghost of a whisper. Suddenly, he was pulling her upwards and towards the soft satin sheets of their bed. He turned her to face away from him, grinding his erection in the small of her back. His hands were everywhere; in her hair, turning her face to his, cupping her breasts, running down the sensitive skin of her belly. She realized she had forgotten to breathe, growing dizzy as she lost herself in his embrace. He pushed her down onto the bed, a small gasp erupting from her throat, and stood over her. The morning sun was streaming in through the windows, casting beams of light upon her sweet, caramel skin. He bent over her, trailing kisses up her spine and into her hair. She smiled, peaking up at him as he stood over her once more. His hand dipped out of her sight as he guided himself into her slowly. They both moaned, the harmony of their voices seeming to echo throughout their empty apartment. Damon pushed himself in and out of her rapidly, forcing his eyes to stay open, on her. 

_More_ , a voice inside of him screamed. He pushed her father up onto the bed, pulling himself up behind her so that he could lay over her, molding his body to hers. His hand wrapped around her neck, pulling her head up into the crook of his shoulder. He bit the skin her neck, though not hard enough to draw blood. Bumps rose to the surface of her skin and she gritted her teeth. Balancing their weight on his elbow, his free hand slithered underneath her body and in between her legs. He pulled her closer, deeper, his hands moving in slow, deliberate circles around her clit. Finally, she closed her eyes, as warmth spread through her belly. It spread slow, like molasses, down between her legs. All she could feel was Damon, all she could hear was Damon. The sound of his breath on her neck, the smell of his cologne strong in her nose. She stiffened, prolonging the inevitable so that she may stay like this forever. _Wait_ , she heard the voice in her head plead. _Not yet_. 

It was too late. She sucked in a breath and everything seemed to come to a halt. Her body froze like stone in Damon's grasp and she clenched around him. Her release was accompanied by a guttural moan, every muscle in her body thrumming in rhythm with her pulse. She cried out as Damon continued to push deeper inside of her, his hands drawing a hard circle between her legs. All he had to do was wait; allow the shockwaves of her body to push him over the edge with her, until he was falling, collapsing, his arms wrapping so tightly around her that she might break. 

They lay together in the same position for a moment, their breath desperately moving in and out of their lungs. Damon rolled off of her, so as not to suffocate her, leaning back on the pillows with an exhilarated flush in his cheeks. She followed, dropping her head to the pillow beside him and spreading out to cool off. Her necklace hung crookedly upon her collar bone, and he was pleased that she would forever associate it with this memory. "I love Valentine's Day," she laughed.

_I love you_ , he thought. It was automatic, so quick that he almost said it out loud, but did he? He considered love for a moment. They never said it. More often they were screaming, "I hate you!" He looked over to her, the sentiment on his mind, and wondered if she would return the feeling. Rather than follow his instinct, he buried the words in his throat, deciding it was better if he didn't think of them at all. 

"That necklace looks lovely on you,” he said finally.

“What was my other present?” she asked, nodding to the box that still sat across the room on the table. 

“Earrings. Custom made,” he added. “They weren’t ready yesterday, so I compelled the jeweler to work all night.”

“That’s where you went.”

“Poor guy looked like he would crack into pieces if I came too close. I’m surprised he finished.”

Damon closed his eyes, as though suddenly very tired himself. Elena frowned to herself, frustrated at her earlier paranoia. 

"Where's my little Runt?" he said, looking to the floor. Having a dog took some getting used to, especially when Damon and Elena were intimate. He’d been so excited he hadn’t even noticed Goliath’s absence.

"I locked him in the guest room," she laughed, "to make you more comfortable."

He frowned. "I almost missed the little guy licking my toes."

* * *

Elena and Damon were uncharacteristically nice to every everyone at the club the next day, so everyone automatically assumed that they had a very good Valentine's Day. Elena even spent some time up at the bar with Damon, watching the band play, which she never did. She hummed quietly to herself as she returned to her office, but stopped abruptly when she caught the sound of someone’s heart beating in her office. Her eyes narrowed and moved as quietly as possible to see if she could catch a peak at whoever was snooping through her things. Through the crack in the door, however, she only saw her guest’s perfect blonde hair, waiting in the seat from across from her desk. "Rebekah," she said, making the girl jump. "How can I help you?" 

Rebekah turned with eyes wide, not returning Elena’s greeting. "Matthew told me he spoke to you yesterday."

Elena nodded, composing her face of stone so as not to reveal her resentment. 

"I wanted to know what you thought."

"Matthew did not tell you?"

"He only said that you did not turn him down."

Elena resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Well, I can't stop you from leaving."

"But do you think I should?"

"I think you should exercise caution."

Rebekah leaned back in her chair, chewing on her lower lip and crossing her arms. Elena could hear the rate of her heart pick up. Something was making her nervous. "What is it?"

"I think I love him," she blurted, her eyes wide as though she could not believe that the words had actually escaped from her mouth. 

Elena's looked at her for a long moment, wondering whether she should laugh or scream. "He's a vampire, dear. His charms are meant to befuddle you. It makes you an easier target."

"I think he might love me back."

Elena considered it for a moment. For all she knew, Matthew appeared to be a typical vampire with no humanity. He was too cold, too calculated to feel. "What makes you think that?"

"He said so."

Elena did laugh this time, louder than she meant to. Rebekah scowled, "What is so funny?"

"That doesn't seem possible," was all she could think to say.

"You haven't seen the way he is with me!"

"He has no humanity," Elena countered, suddenly very determined to win this argument. "He cannot feel love."

Rebekah's eyes filled with tears and she stood to go. "I don't know why I thought you would understand."

Elena let her go, her sunny disposition suddenly setting.

When Matthew came to her the next day, she braced for another argument. Perhaps she would ban him from the club, Caroline be damned. Rebekah could go with him if she wished. 

His eyes were guarded, and just when she opened her mouth to really let him have it, Caroline was there behind him.

She stepped through the door, as beautiful as ever, her bright blue eyes almost squinting from the broad smile that wound across her face. She was covered from head to toe in yellow, emphasizing her radiant and cheerful appearance. Elena stood, forgetting altogether that Matthew was there and ran with incredible speed to her friend, wrapping her arms roughly around her. They laughed as they embraced, and for a moment Elena feared to let go. What if Caroline did not approve of her? What if she mocked her for showing such weakness as to return to Damon? Reluctantly, she released Caroline from her strong grip, reinforcing her smile as she did so. "I’m glad to see I was missed," Caroline smirked. "You write so little that I was beginning to think you had forgotten me." 

It was true. The last time they had seen each other, they had argued. It was 1912 and Elena was desperate to see Jeremy before he died. Caroline was vehemently against it. "Seeing someone you love like that," she had said, "will scar you forever." Yet Elena could not talk herself out of it, though nervous she was. Jeremy was the last living evidence of her human life, and even though her emotions were off, she could not sit comfortably and wait for him to die without a final farewell. Her and Caroline did not exactly split amicably, but neither could harbor true malice towards the other. They had grown very close in the forty-two years they spent roaming the Earth. 

"My humor does not translate into writing," Elena smiled apologetically, "you know that."

She gestured for Caroline to sit down in the chair across from her desk, turning to pour her some whisky from the decanter across the room. When she turned to hand her the glass, she found only Caroline awaiting her attention; Matthew had disappeared. 

Elena turned to ensure that the sage was burning in the corner, for she was not sure she wanted anyone to hear their conversation. "You have a lot to explain, Caroline." Her voice was terse and though her face indicated she was only playing, true suspicion lurked in Elena's belly. Why had she come so abruptly?

Caroline took a microscopic sip of whisky before politely setting it on the desk in front of her. Elena had forgotten that there was only one drink that ever passed Caroline's lips. "Well, I missed you, obviously."

Elena looked up through her long eyelashes doubtfully, a knowing smile on her lips. Emotions or no, Caroline was never a good liar. "Please don't flatter me. You hadn't written in months and suddenly Blonde Dracula is standing at my doorstep, claiming that my dear old friend is returning to me in just a month. No letter. No warning."

Caroline giggled, her hand covering her mouth. "I wanted to surprise you!"

Elena finally took a seat in the large chair behind her desk, leaning back to appraise her guest. "How's Klaus?" she asked.

Caroline's lips pulled into a hard line; Elena had asked just the right question. "Hopefully dead," she replied nonchalantly. "Smeared across some smelly sewer wall, where he belongs."

Elena raised an eyebrow. Caroline was never one to care about anything… unless it was warm, red, and oozing out of the shaking and fearful body of her victim. 

Caroline bit her lip, not because she was conflicted, but she suddenly felt the whole story crashing against the floodgate of her throat, begging to be told. "He found another," she said simply.

"Another what?"

Caroline rolled her eyes, irritated that Elena would stoop to make her say it out loud. "Her name is Camille. She's French, blonde, and human." Here eyes darkened at the last word as Elena's opened wide in surprise. 

"Human?" Elena said incredulously.

"Human."

"A phase," Elena deducted. "Surely, it will pass."

Caroline shrugged, "I've moved on."

Doubtful, Elena eyed Caroline wearily, wondering if her emotions had returned. Though she smiled serenely, there was a fire, no, just an ember alight in Caroline's eyes as though she were simply waiting to set a flame. "Matthew is…" Elena's brain rattled for the appropriate word, not wanting to offend Caroline but not wanting to lie either. "Handsome." She didn't like even admitting that. 

Caroline nodded, her smile growing. "Those blue eyes were just too enticing to leave behind," she admitted. The thought of another's blue eyes floated through Elena's mind. She blinked, trying to focus. "He was only a few years old when we met in Prague; I thought he would like to get out and see the world."

"And so, you decided to make Memphis, Tennessee - of all places - your first stop."

"Memphis, Tennessee is not without its attractions," Caroline said suggestively.

"Such as?"

"I wondered if you wanted to come with me, wherever my journey takes me."

Elena pondered the idea of flitting away with Caroline; taking a bath in the sun-soaked water off the coast of Egypt, long strolls through the streets of Paris, and a misguided venture into the dense forests of South America to hunt the animals there. Her vision was clouded by the presence of Matthew, always standing too close. Would Rebekah go to? Her lips turned downward at the thought. She did not even stop to think of Damon; he would never even consider leaving Memphis unless to open another club. 

Caroline cleared her throat, her eyebrows high on her forehead, indicating that she was till awaiting an answer. Before Elena could answer, the door at the end of the room swung open, surprising them both. That was the downside to burning sage: it kept the outside noise out just as it kept the inside noise in. Damon gazed at them both, masking his anxiety with a confident smirk. "I just ran in to Matthew," he explained.

Caroline looked him up and down, her eyes hungry. "He is still so pretty," she sighed quietly, almost ruefully. "I wish I could say I'm happy to see you fully clothed."

Damon shoved his last and only memory of Caroline down to the depths of his psyche before it could arouse too much embarrassment. "Pleased to me you," he said, offering his hand.Elena watched tensely, fearing one's reaction to the other. Damon paused, considering pouring himself a drink and sitting down, but he thought better on it. "I only came to say hello," he said, his mind made up. "I'm afraid I have to return to the party."

"How awful for you," Caroline smiled.

Elena relaxed only once he was gone, turning back to Caroline and awaiting her appraisal. 

"Your emotions have returned," she said, making Elena's insides turn to stone.

"What?" Elena could have sworn that the blood in her veins had chilled so severely that it was frozen. She felt unable to move.

"Hadn't you realized?"

Caroline awaited an answer, but Elena only stared back, her face drained of color. "Don't worry," Caroline cooed. "Damon is no different."

Elena struggled to force the words from her mouth. "How could you know?"

"I spent almost half a century with you, Elena. You think I wouldn't notice? You even look different."

Elena wondered at that. She never noticed a change in the mirror, but perhaps it was gradual. Or perhaps she chose to ignore it. She thought again of the last time her and Caroline saw each other. They were mad, yes, but not really mad. In fact, she had not thought of their quarrel at all until Caroline returned. Her thoughts then turned to Jeremy. The mere sight of him left her feeling irritated and suspicious, more prone to sadness and anger. Had that been the moment when her humanity slowly began to return to her? She shook her head slightly. There was no way that she had gone so long without knowing. As for Damon… it was she, under the pretense of having no humanity, who convinced him to turn his emotions off, to join her. She knew for sure that they both had left the last remnants of their humanity in Mystic Falls, along with the heirlooms of their human lives. 

Perhaps their humanity had come to catch up with them over time. Perhaps they had gotten lazy, or too comfortable. The thought made her sick, and panic ballooned inside of her. Along with the panic, Elena suddenly felt everything else; all of her emotions jumping up and down in the recesses of her mind and heart, as though they were on a desert island and trying to catch the attention of a plane passing overhead. This was going to be a problem. 

Caroline sat by patiently, allowing the epiphany to sink in before she spoke again. 

"I think you're right," Elena said, her eyes wide.

"Of course I am," Caroline agreed confidently.

"Why?" It seemed once Elena acknowledged the emotions, they were unstoppable. They ebbed inside of her, making her body throb. "Why me?"

Caroline sat for a moment, putting on a face as though to consider the question. She had known the answer for a long time. "Damon," was all she said.

"Damon?"

"The 'switch' does not exist in your head, as it does for the rest of us. Damon is your switch, as you are to him, I suppose.”

“No," was all Elena could manage to say.

"Think on it: You kill Katherine, and leave Damon behind. The switch is off. You return to Damon, and the switch is on. It's not an unreasonable guess."

Elena reached across the table to snatch Caroline's glass of whisky from in front of her. She swallowed the contents of the glass so swiftly that she didn't even notice the burn as the contents slithered down her throat. 

"All the more reason to come with me," Caroline continued. "Leave this place behind, and you'll be free of your humanity. You won't have to think of him again."

Elena doubted that; even her strongest and most emotionless self still strayed to think of Damon every now and then. Yet she feared what was growing inside of her: the realization, the doom, the guilt. "What about Matthew?" she said, trying to distract Caroline from her point.

"He's taken an interest in one of your humans," Caroline shrugged, unbothered as she tilted her head to the door behind Elena's desk. "I suppose I have a habit of choosing men who want someone like me, just not actually me." The chagrin on her face disappeared with another shrug. "I was never that attached to him anyway. I'll find someone new."

"I don't know if I could leave them," she said, thinking of the girls lurking below her very feet. A warm feeling crept into her chest and she realized it was tenderness. She cared for them.

* * *

The day Caroline left, Elena was still unsure as to whether she would go or not. Damon had watched her carefully, half expecting her to sneak out of the window one night, never to return. Caroline had stayed much longer than she originally would have liked. Matthew left, as he said he would, with Rebekah in tow. Once he was gone, Caroline quickly tired of Tennessee. Elena guessed it bothered Caroline more than she was willing to admit.

"You're sure you won't come with me?" Caroline asked sadly, the train’s loud engine forcing her to shout. 

Elena glanced at Damon, who was speaking excitedly about the size of the train in front of him with a complete stranger. His eyes were wide as they stared at the locomotive. "It's the largest I've ever seen," she heard him say. 

Caroline wrapped Elena in a hug, not needing an explanation. "You're allowed to feel for him, you know." Her voice was just a whisper, barely audible over the engines. "You're allowed to feel for yourself. It all begins with forgiveness."

Elena smiled wistfully, wishing Caroline could understand. "I know," was all she said. 

"You'll be ready someday."

She looked at him again, the sight of his smile making her smile. Seeming to feel her eyes, he glanced up to meet them. He smiled a little before turning back to respond to the man's question. No, she wasn't ready. Not yet.

** 1944 **

It had been years since Caroline had left, and yet Elena thought of their conversation every day, each dawn seeming to bring about the sense that Elena needed to move on. She tried with all her might to bury her emotions, stuff them and beat them down as though packing a suitcase. Caroline was right: Damon was her switch, and as long as he was near, Elena would never escape the guilt that haunted her sleep.

She killed someone last night. Not because she was feeding. Not to send a message. She had lost her temper, and simply shoved a young man into the wall. She could still smell the blood in her nose, still taste its essence in her mouth though she never even fed on him. For the millionth time she considered walking up the stairs, out the door, and into the sunset, never to return. Damon would be better off. He had so much potential in his second life. It was she who had dulled it, ruined it by acting selfishly. How many people had she killed just to make him angry? She couldn't remember and guilt dropped into her stomach like an anvil.

The dance floor was filled with couples, dancing slowly in front of her. Some of them had their Valentine's Day roses dangling lazily from their hands. A woman she had never seen before stood on the stage, crooning into the microphone. Damon's latest hire, she guessed, and so obviously a witch. Her voice was enchanting, seeming to wrap around Elena with tangible hands and squeeze her ever so slightly. It made her feel warm inside, and strangely, very cold. She was so entranced she had not even noticed that there was a band, playing smooth and slow behind her. As the music faded and the woman's voice momentarily released Elena from its grasp, Elena felt the melancholy retreat from her belly.

The music picked up once more with the sound of piano keys, light and slow. The woman's voice returned, capturing Elena once more. 

_“I'll be seeing you_

_In all the old, familiar places.”_

She swayed a little in her seat and very suddenly wanted to dance, desperately wishing to have someone wrap her in their grasp. She looked into the crowd, searching for someone to take her hand, and there Damon was, smiling sadly at her from across the way. She met him in the midst of the crowd. He took her by the hand, kissing her on the knuckle, and pulling her firmly into his arms. She sighed, allowing the words to tie them together.

_“I'll be seeing you_

_In every lovely summer's day.”_

She felt eighteen again. If she closed her eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of Damon's chest, she could almost place herself back in Mystic Falls. She could see him, his hair long and wavy, with that sort of scared look he got when he first saw her. He looked just the same, and so very different. Human, she thought. Damon wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her from her dream. "Damon," she murmured.

"Hm?"

"I love you."

He made to pull back from her, to look her in the eyes, but she wrapped around him with her incredible strength, never breaking away from him. After a moment, she realized her eyes were wet, leaving marks on his shirt. 

"What?" His eyes were wide, though not out of fear. He knew this was coming, yet he did not know what to say. Should he fight? Tell her no? Or was this better?

Finally, she pulled back just enough to see his face. "I love you," she said again.

The way her eyes pled with him, he knew he could not fight against her. He would have to let her go if he was ever going to get her back. "I love you too," he said. Neither of them had uttered those words in so long, yet they were fluid coming from mouths; their first language, unforgettable. 

"I think I must go," she said quietly.

He nodded. It was all he could do. 

She slid her hand across his cheek, resting her thumb on the ridge of his jaw. He grasped at it, basking in its warmth. Had she always been so warm?

"We'll meet again," she said, her eyes wide with promise. "If not here then in the stars. In heaven or hell."

She said that and he believed, not just in her words. He had not considered heaven or hell in a long time, but if she intended to meet him there, he would follow. He only nodded again, trying to phrase his words perfectly. The last thing he said was of great importance. It was the only piece of himself that he had to give. 

Over her shoulder he saw a single rose, deserted, upon the bar. Its petals had faded and shrunk, bending over as though it was overcome with grief. He looked back to Elena, and as he opened him mouth to say something, she kissed him. It was hard, at first. Desperate, reaching and pulling into him. As it slowed, she moved her hands down the skin of his neck, across his chest and arms, until they found his hands. She wrapped herself there, memorizing what he felt like. Though she knew once she was gone, she would no longer care. His lips were tender against hers, fleeting, as though he was already fading away in her grasp. He released her, and she ducked her head into his chest for one final moment, swaying to the music and inhaling his scent. For a moment, he was hopeful that she would change her mind.

And then she was gone.

He stood alone in the crowd of people, all blissfully unaware that he'd just lost every ounce of love in his heart. Though he gave it willingly, he felt cheated. Everything was dimmer, somehow. Had everything always looked this way? He appraised his surroundings. His club, once his pride and joy, now looked shabby and malnourished. The music was off-key. The smell of blood was strong in his nose. The song was approaching its end and he shoved his fists into his pocket. There, in its depths, Elena left a letter. Though he was still too agitated to notice. The singer's voice slowed and she belted her final words.

_“I'll be looking at the moon,_

_But I'll be seeing you.”_

-40-


	41. Wishes

**Part II**

**Chapter XLI**

**1956**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

_ Damon, _

_ I wish I had the words at my command to fully express the extent of my love for you. I do not think you will ever really know, so I can only say it plainly and be done. _

_ Do you remember when we were young? I see my human life in my dreams, mostly. I see pictures of my family, of my home, of my life, and mostly of you; for you were all of those things. You would always ask me to run away with you. Do you remember? I wish I had said yes. I wish we had left Mystic Falls and never come back. I wish we were human, even if that means we would be dead. A life, a real life, with you is all I ever wanted. _

_ We would have children. God knows I wish for that everyday. Our children would have children too, and then their children would have children. I can picture them all right now, fictitious as they are, running through the grass surrounding our little house. We would have been so happy. It is the most beautiful picture my mind can conjure, but it is too beautiful to be real. _

_ And wishes cannot repair our ruins. _

_ You sleep so easy at night, but my human life haunts my dreams. I can smell my father's fields in the morning. I can hear the sound of your laugh as we race through the tobacco. I can taste the bile in my throat when I knew you were dead. I can feel our child inside of me. I can see the blood rushing to stain the floor. _

_ Those memories are hollow to me now. I never cried. I never mourned for my own child because of your compulsion. Like I was unable to be trusted with my own emotions. Or did you take my memories because you knew it was your fault? I wish I never knew what you did to me. I wish I died when I jumped off of that bridge. _

_ I blame you for nothing and everything. Not until I was Reborn did I understand the power of your thirst. I suppose I can understand how tempting I was as a human, but I cannot pardon your betrayal. It burns me to know how badly you have hurt me, and how easily you sleep still. I suffer alone. _

_ I do not know when you will ever get this letter. If you are reading it now, then we must be apart. Please know that I miss you, no matter my anger towards you. You will always be apart of me. You remind me that I was real, that I had a soul, and that I could love. To lose you forever would be to lose myself. I only need time for my wounds to heal. Maybe you do too. _

_ We have forever to be apart, and we have forever to be together. When I first turned, I dreaded the thought of forever, but now that we have both wasted so much time hiding from one another, I think forever is not enough. _

_ Look within yourself, my darling. Release your pain and I will release mine. Find peace and we might return to each other one day. _

_ Please be careful, I love you, and until I see you again, _

_ **Elena** _

 

"Can you believe that, Stefan?"

The papers of Elena's letter shifted in the wind between Damon's fingers. He held onto them tightly, scared that one would fly away, and wrapped his fingers around the bottle of bourbon at his side. His eyes were closed, and amber liquid spilled across his white shirt before it reached his lips. He opened his eyes as he lowered the bottle, glowering at the canopy of the willow tree above him. To the east, the sun slowly rose above the fiery horizon.

He'd been to this place before, many decades ago. In the distance he could see the old Salvatore Estate, and even further away, the shambles of the Gilbert estate. His brother died not even 200 yards from where he sat, for the second time, at least. Damon and Elena had buried his gray remains beneath the very spot he sat, only marked by the hard, black dirt where nothing could grow. A sea of clovers and verbena grew like a halo around the spot, and Damon was careful not to touch the bright flowers. Elena had offered to bring a rock or some kind of marker to lay in the dirt, so Damon could come back, but he declined the offer. "Vampires do not belong in marked graves," he had said.

"She thinks…" he paused to look back at the letter, his drunk eyes struggling to focus. "She thinks I forgot about… everything."

He read the letter again, silently this time. The paper was brown and delicate from being read over and over again. Her scent was faint, barely recognizable upon its surface. The ink had faded, but the sound of her words was crisp in his ears. "'I cannot pardon your betrayal,'" he quoted quietly, and his brow furrowed. It had been a very long time since he thought about that.

He folded the pages and placed it carefully into his pocket, shoving the feelings aside. "I miss you, brother," he said miserably. "I wish I could talk to you now. Or…" his lips turned up mischievously, as though Stefan could hear him, "I wish you were here to really screw up. You know, kill everybody in a church or something really horrible like that. You used to make me look so well-behaved." His head fell back against the bark of the tree behind him, a frown encompassing his face again. "But wishes cannot repair our ruins," he quoted again. He could recite the letter at this point. Every word was burned into his brain.

He closed his eyes again, taking another sip of bourbon and listening to the wind's song. It almost put him to sleep.

"Well, I'll be damned," came a voice.

"I know that I'm damned," Damon replied, for he thought the voice was just a figment of his imagination.

"Damon Salvatore."

"Damon Salvatore," he mimicked, looking like the words tasted bitter on his tongue. "Yes, that's my name. I'm glad I can remember it."

"What the hell is wrong with you, boy?"

He peaked through the slits in his eyes, the sudden rush of light making his head throb. A silhouette appeared to him from a few feet away, and he jumped at its proximity. He hadn't expected the voice to come with a body. He blinked, trying to focus past the alcohol.

It was a woman, he realized. "Who are you?" he said, or at least that's what he intended to say. He was much drunker than he originally thought.

"I didn't think you would remember me," she said, taking a step forward. Damon meant to take a step backward to compensate, but he was clinging to the tree for support. Her hand reached out, its dark skin like paper over her veins. "Go on," she said, almost like she was talking to a child. "Take my hand. I'll take you back to the house."

He considered for a moment the risk she could pose to him, even in this state, and decided he would go with her. He reached forward stupidly, unable to pinpoint which hand was real. When he found it and their palms slid together, a sudden picture overwhelmed his vision, a long-forgotten memory. There was a small girl, gazing sleepily up at him from a pile of hay. Her dark skin was glowing against the white of her dress. A small bow hung haphazardly from her kinky curls and a Raggedy Ann doll lay at her side. Elena was there and they were both looking at him with the same eyes.

"Abigail Gilbert," he breathed.

She said nothing and the two walked arm and arm through the long stretch of field. It was impossible to tell who struggled across the uneven terrain more; him under the weight of alcohol, or her under the weight of a drunk vampire. In the distance, he recognized the old Gilbert farmhouse.

"I've been waiting on you," she said. "Three months I've been seeing your face lurking around the corner."

Damon rolled his eyes. "Elena mentioned your mother was a witch." Saying her name out loud hurt more than he expected. He suddenly wished he had that bottle he left behind, but then he realized it was probably empty anyway. "Glad to see you're keeping up the family business."

"Don't get smart," Abigail growled. "I may look old, but it won't take but a second to sew that mouth of yours shut." She struggled to get him up the steps without falling. "Come in," she strained. Once he was past the threshold of the big house, the faint smell of something like roses hit his nose. He looked down at Abigail warily. "Vervain," he almost groaned.

"Just so you don't get any ideas," she smirked.

He was absolutely positive that his brain was not capable of ideas at the moment; his head was spinning like a top. "Sit." Her voice came from somewhere behind him, but he didn't bother to look for it. He did as he was told, clumsily lowering himself into a chair at the kitchen table.

Abigail joined after a moment, delicately placing a cup of tea in front of him. "I've been expecting you for so long, but I never thought I'd find you like this."

He didn't respond, staring at the steam that billowed out of her cup and into her face.

"What are you doing here, boy?"

He laughed, "Boy? I'm old enough to be your… your… I'm older than you." Now wasn't the time for mathematics, he decided.

"Hush," she ordered, unamused. "I asked you a question."

"I came to visit an old friend."

"I'm guessing you're not talking about me."

He considered it for a moment. He didn't even remember she existed, honestly. "You were my next stop," he said wryly.

Her suspicious eyes bored into his, as though she were trying to read his thoughts. "You've been planning to come for months," she stated.

"Just thinking about it," he corrected. "I ended up hear on accident, I guess."

He tried to remember the previous night. One minute he was drinking too much at the bar at the Moonstone, and the next he was running like someone had set him on fire. He must have run fast too, if he made it the Virginia before sunrise. Why? he wondered. What could he want in Mystic Falls?

She looked at him suspiciously, but said nothing else. In sync, they slowly raised their teacups to their mouths. Damon's nose paused over the rim of his cup, subtly enough that Abigail could not have noticed, and pulled the steam into his nose, searching for any trace of vervain. Being home made him paranoid, it seemed. Or maybe it was just the witch. He took a big drink, not minding the liquid as it burned down his throat. He welcomed the rush to his senses, hoping it would wake him up. "How are you doing, Abigail? Or are they still calling you Abby?"

It had been so long ago since she had seen him, and she could still remember every detail of his face. His hair was much shorter than she remembered, but still swallowed the sunlight into depths of deep obsidian. His eyes were still that odd, transparent blue. It was still just as unnerving to look directly into them now as the first time she saw him. Every edge of his face was still sharp. But there was something different too. Something in the eyes, maybe. She thought back to her first glimpse of him. She had been sleeping, but not really sleeping. It felt forced, like she was meant to be doing something else. She was drawn to the sound of a voice calling her name. Desperately, she followed its smooth tenor, trailing behind it through the darkness of unconsciousness. She forced her eyes open, the source of the voice staring down at her with her own wide brown eyes. "Elena," she smiled, but the smile faltered after a moment because there was something different in her face.. Her hair was disheveled, half up and half down. The smell of dirt wafted from her coat and her hands were coated in something sticky and red. Nevertheless, she wrapped her fingers gently around Abigail, pulling her from a pile of hay. Then there was Damon, and fear rippled throughout her tiny body. His face was streaked with blood and dirt. He looked at her with cold eyes, seeming annoyed or bored. She could not tell. "Hurry," he sighed, "I don't want to have to deal with the witch for too long."

Now she saw the difference. When she had first seen his eyes, they were so shallow, the soft blue frozen in an impenetrable block of ice. Now they were marked with infinite depth of the sea, like if he opened them too wide they would spill their contents upon the table. But she had no way to know what that could mean.

"Well?" he said, still waiting for her to answer. How long had she sat there? It took her a minute to even remember what he was asking. "Abby," she said, distracted. "They call my Abby. You can call me Abigail."

He laughed, "Fair enough."

He certainly never laughed when they first met. "You looking for Elena?"

The abruptness of her question took him so by surprise that he choked on his tea, further scorching his insides. "What makes you say that?"

"Why else would you come?"

"I told you it was an accident." He felt very alert now, the alcoholic haze slowly but surely fading from his brain. That was the worst part about being a vampire. Booze never lasted long enough.

"Vampires don't just roll through Mystic Falls on accident. They always have some sort of agenda."

He looked at her skeptically. "What vampires?"

"What? You want names? Like I'm inviting them in for tea? You want their favorite colors too?"

He laughed again, "You invited me in for tea."

"No, I dragged you in for tea. It's different."

"Smoke?" he said, digging in the inner pocket of his jacket.

She shook her head. "Doc says it isn't good for me."

He rolled his eyes, "Sounds like a quack."

He inhaled slowly, getting a feel for the room around him. Before, he had only seen a little of the inside of the house through its windows. Even when they returned Abigail to her family, he never stepped inside. The wide open windows spilt sunlight all over the cheery yellow cabinets. Pictures littered every inch of the walls, some very old, and some very new. One caught his attention in particular. The young and lithe Jeremy Gilbert smiled through squinted eyes. Under his arm was a beautiful woman with dark skin and big lips. A child hung in their arms between them, the center of the picture. Behind them, a wooden skeleton of a house lumbered over them. It must have been this house, he realized. For a moment, he pictured himself and Elena in the picture and he suddenly felt ill.

Abigail seemed in no hurry to make conversation, which he was thankful for. He admired her through the smoke, trying to distract himself from the inexplicable heaviness in his stomach. She was broad for a woman, but not without beauty. Nothing of Elena or Jeremy stuck to her face but the eyes, which he was thankful for. He did not want to speak with those ghosts at the moment. She looked older, a lot older from the little girl he had known so long ago, but not old.

"You going to tell me about those vampires or not?" he said.

She shrugged. "Your kind seems drawn to this place like ants to sugar. They'll swoop in every now and then, lay claim on some burrow or another, but it isn't long before they realize that the people here have not forgotten your curse." She nodded pointedly at the garden through the window. Even from where he sat he knew he was looking at a long stretch of vervain, its petals an innocent pale violet. Just looking at it made the hair on his neck stand up.

He had forgotten Jeremy's flare for business. How nice of her to carry on the tradition, he thought sarcastically. "So they come across a little vervain and run scared?" Vampires these days were so cowardly.

"I think they like it," she disagreed. "Humans present a much bigger challenge when they are not compelled."

He thought of the Moonstone. None of the Betties there were compelled, and they were not a challenge at all. They were a good kind of easy, and the vamps loved them. "So, what then?"

Abigail's eyes lit up as she finished her cup of tea, a smug sort of smile creeping into her features. "The supernatural energy of this place doesn't come from vampires, it comes from witches."

Should have known, he thought with a frown.

"My coven takes care of them with no problems," she went on.

"Why bother with vervain, then, if it's so easy?"

"It protects people when we're not around." She laughed a little. "And nothing's funnier than the face a surprised leech."

"Is that why you brought me here?" Every muscle in his body tensed to pounce. The fog had lifted enough from his head that he knew he could escape, so long as this mysterious coven was not hiding in the closet.

"Oh, sit down," she said irritably. "I'm not going to kill you or anything like that."

"Why not?"

"Well, you did help save my life once." Her eyes flickered quickly to his and then away, as if she didn't want to talk about it. It was ironic to him that he hadn't actually done anything for her. If he could have helped it, Stefan would be alive right now. Maybe she wouldn't be. "Plus," she continued, "Elena would kill me."

He froze at the name, a sharp crack coming from somewhere in the room. His muscles grew so tight that it felt like he was shrinking in his seat. He looked down slowly, trying to shake the feeling. In his hands, his teacup lay in pieces with dark red liquid filling its cracked basins. Abigail leapt into action, crossing the kitchen to grab a towel. The wound in Damon's hand had healed before she even returned, but he had made quite a mess. He held his hands and the broken shards above the table obediently, allowing her to wipe the table clean. "Elena?"

"Boy, have you been listening to me?"

No, he thought. Had she been speaking? What was she saying? Was she still talking about Elena?

"What is wrong with the two of you? She acts all strange when I mention you, too."

He smiled a little.

She flitted back to the kitchen with the broken teacup wrapped in her towel. She surveyed the damage to her towel before deciding to toss the whole thing into the trash. "You alright?" she called.

He didn't even glance down to check. "I'm fine. What about Elena?"

She sighed, "I was saying that Elena would kill me if I killed you. "

"She's been here?" He inhaled deeper, trying to find her scent, but there was nothing but the smell of dirt and vervain. If she had been, it was a long time ago.

"She stops by now and then, just to check on me. Usually she sits out by that tree and reads."

Damon glanced out to the tree by the garden, three large white stones at its base. Had it always been there?

He suddenly felt very awkward. How was he supposed to ask about her and still sound casual? Before he could come up with an answer, Abigail was talking again.

"She told me to keep an eye out for you if you ever stopped by. She gave me some bourbon to keep just in case, but I thought you would be better off without it today."

His insides seemed to scream, his words rumbling like a locomotive up his throat, but he kept absolutely still. Casual, he thought. Be casual.

"Does she seem… well?"

Abigail was sitting again. "Last time she was here she seemed a little agitated. She didn't come around much."

What could she be agitated about? Was she thinking about him? Someone else? Surely she hadn't found anyone else. Impossible. Then the thought of her face illuminated his brain. Her big smile, those brown eyes, that soft olive skin, and never-ending legs that seemed to stretch for days until they disappeared beneath the slip of her skirt… Maybe it was possible. "Do you know why?"

"Like I said, she kept her distance. She said something about a friend."

Friend. The word echoed in his head. What kind of friend? "How odd," was all he could manage to say.

"I wish I could tell you more."

He looked at her curiously again. Why would she want to help him at all? He was, after all, just another leech. "Why does your coven allow Elena to be here?"

Dark pink faded into the color of her nose and ears, and Damon could feel the heat of her blush. "They don't know," she said. "I keep Elena secret."

"Secret?"

"She's my family," she said defensively. "Not to mention she saved my life, and she has always shown me kindness. She is not allowed to hunt here, of course, so they don't have to know."

He laughed. "Gilbert women have a history with betrayal."

"You would know."

"Do you know where she went?"

"She never tells me anything," Abigail shrugged. "I don't think she stays in one place for long."

He nodded, of course she doesn't.

"Can I ask you something?" Abigail asked, a little nervous.

"Of course."

"Why aren't you with her?"

He thought of simply reaching into his pocket, unfolding Elena's letter and spreading it out in front of her, but he shook the urge. "It's… complicated."

"You don't have to tell me."

He nodded. "If you don't mind."

"I was a little disappointed when she first came here without you, you know."

He tilted his head, confused.

"Her visit was so last-minute that I didn't even see her coming. One day she just showed up. My daughter had just left to go pick up some apples down at the market. We were going to make a big dinner for Daddy's birthday, and I was going to bake an apple pie." A sad smile was on her face and she was looking right through him. "I walked into the kitchen and she was just sitting there, right where you're sitting, looking out the window like she didn't hear me come. I knew who it was the minute I saw her. She hadn't changed a day." He could see it perfectly; the sunlight on her skin, a furrow in her brow. "Elena cried when she saw me. I never new why. 'How you've grown!' she kept saying. Of course I had grown! It had been so long.

"We never talked about you, but I always wondered where you were. Even as a child, in those few moments I saw you together, I could see how attached you were. I was sad to see that bond was broken."

Damon smiled. Even a witch knew that they were meant to be together.

Abigail sat silent for a moment, waiting for him to say something, but when he didn't, she squared her shoulders. "How long are you planning on staying."

"Don't worry. I need to get back soon." He wondered how the club was doing without him, but the thought couldn't distract him from the possibility of finding Elena. Was he ready? Was she? "I was thinking about going into town to grab a bite first."

Her eyes widened and her fists clenched on top of the table. "What?"

"Do you want to come?" he asked hesitantly. He didn't really want the company, but if that's what she wanted…"

"Why would you even ask that?" she hissed.

Then he understood. "Not that kind of bite," he laughed. "Food helps burn off the liquor." Blood does too, but he figured if Elena wasn't allowed to hunt in Mystic Falls, he wasn't either.

Abigail relaxed only slightly. "I don't usually eat in town."

"There's a burger joint close by. Are you sure?"

She nodded. "My daughters are coming for supper," she said.

"Your loss," he smirked.

She smiled a little in response, raising to her feet in order to escort him to the door. "Thank you for not killing me," he joked.

"I suppose I should say the same."

He thought to ask if he could come back, but he decided not to. If he ever needed, he'd rather do it and apologize than be denied altogether. "If you see Elena, say hi for me," he winked.

 

Damon stared up at the shabby green building on the corner of the street. On the bricks by the door, a large mural was painted over the entire wall. Mystic Grill's Famous Steaks, Shakes, and Burgers, it read. Someone had painted a large cow with a smile, pointing to the door. Just below the faded green awning above the door, in smaller but no less noticeable black ink, a sign read, WHITES ONLY.

Oh.

Damon frowned, inspecting the other buildings that lined the street. Every one had the same sign. No wonder Abigail never ate in town. He was irritated at the thought.

Just eat, a voice inside of himself cooed. If not a burger, then maybe her. His eyes trailed through the window and towards a small brunette in the back corner of the restaurant. She sat alone, her meal untouched and a book in her hand. How easy it would be to slide into the booth across from her and calmly look into her eyes. Don't make a sound, he would say, right as he bit into her-

"What's that boy doing?"

The voice caught his attention from the other side of the restaurant. He turned as though they had called his name, and they looked away. He must have been staring. Embarrassed, he ducked his head and went through the door, trying to pretend that none of it had happened at all. Ducking around the corner of the bar, he picked a stool that was out of their line of sight. "This town's overrun by freaks," one of them murmured.

"Damn kid looked like he could'a swallowed her whole."

He pushed the sound from his mind and turned his attention to give his order to the teenager behind the bar.

As he waited, an old man entered the building, taking a seat on a stool a little bit away from him. Damon stared warily at him. His face was red with effort and Damon could hear his breath coming out in gasps. For a minute he was afraid the man would hit the ground before he made it into his seat.

His face was round and soft, but his body was rounder and softer, both by nature and age. He barked his order at the same boy that took Damon's, and his face stayed red long after he sat down. It was odd to think that he was much younger than Damon. This man could have been his son or maybe his grandson. A chill ran down his spine and he shook the thought from his head.

In an attempt to distract himself, he pulled Elena's letter from his pocket and read it again. Halfway through, he realized he was not reading it at all. The words flew past his eyes, and all he could see was her face when they reunited. Her eyes would find his from across the room. He could see her smile. She would be overjoyed to see him again and run into his arms. He would whisk her away into a happily ever after. The end.

Then he saw another story. Her eyes finding his and filling with rage. Her teeth barred to attack. Her hand wriggling its way under his ribcage and tearing out his heart, just like Stefan.

He was frowning when his burger was brought to him. Suddenly everything seemed very unappetizing. The bell on the door jingled with a new arrival. Damon looked up just in time to see the red-faced old man turn to the door. His face was alight with a new shade of red. Blush, he realized. Damon turned to see who the man was staring at. It was a woman, probably his wife, smiling just as big as he was. Though he had struggled so hard to get into it, the man slipped out of his chair with ease and strode slowly towards her. He took her hand into his and kissed it lightly before tapping it with the other. Damon hadn't noticed before, but the man was shaking almost violently. "I ordered your favorite," he said as he escorted her back to his spot. His voice was hoarse, barely audible over the music that played from the jukebox in the corner.

As the air settled and slowly diffused into the space around them, a scent wafted to Damon's nose. It was different than the general smell of the elderly. Usually, they smelled so strongly of their coming death that Damon hardly had the stomach to be near them. No, it was more than that. He inhaled deeply, searching his memory for anything similar. The realization came to him slowly. He could smell cancer. He recoiled, the smell alone making him feel sick. It happened occasionally that a vampire would come across a sick person. Feeding on the sick made vampires sick too, in a sense. It made them weak and ravenous, a disease of the mind and body. It all depended on the severity of the human's illness, but this "sickness" in the vampire could last for days or weeks. When he was still relatively new and did not know any better, Damon had fed on a man with cancer. He was too young and crazed to smell a difference in his blood. Now he knew better. That was why his blood could heal. It was so he could safely feed.

Damon watched them closer. Could either of them know? The scent wasn't subtle. Surely she had noticed the side effects by now. They sat very close as they ate, never speaking but sometimes looking to the other to share a look, as though they were communicating silently. Damon never touched his own food, he just watched and waited until they gave him some sort of answer. Luckily, he didn't have to wait for too long because the man finally raised his head and said, "How's the doctor?"

She smiled, "He's very well. Told me to tell you hello."

He looked more anxious now. "What did he say?"

"I'm as healthy as a horse." Outwardly, she gave nothing away. She smiled warmly, utterly calm. However, Damon could hear her heart begin to beat heavily. She was lying.

But why? Why not tell him? Doesn't he deserve to know? Shouldn't she warn him? The man took her hand with a relieved sigh. His cheeks were flushed again, in a good way, and a giddy laugh broke from his throat. "Thank the good Lord!"

He turned happily back to his dinner, as did his wife, but now Damon could see her worry. She was protecting him, he realized. She did not want to cause him pain. She was allowing him to believe whatever made him happy.

"Sir?"

The nervous voice broke his concentration. He turned, still frowning, to the boy who had taken his order. "What?" he said a little too aggressively.

"I noticed you hadn't touched your food. I was wondering if I could get you anything?"

"Oh." He looked down at the plate. No doubt it was cold by now. Serves me right for eavesdropping. "No problems. I was… distracted."

"I could reheat that for you," he offered, staring down at the limp patty on his plate.

"Don't worry about it."

Damon turned his attention to the letter again, eating his food as fast as he could so that he wouldn't have to taste it. The milkshake was melted but he drank it anyway. Though he tuned the old couple's conversation from his head, he could not help but to think of them. He thought of Elena's letter, too. Is that really what she wanted? Even from where he sat, he could hear their bones creaking like the foundations of old house. They were weak, decrepit, dying. How could she want that? He thought about the cancer too. He would never be able to bear it if Elena became sick. Pictures of her sunken face floated to the brain, but he shook the thought. Elena was alive, and even if she wasn't here, she was somewhere.

But she was sick, he realized. He had made her sick. He jammed his fingers into his eyes as though he could physically force the thoughts backwards into his brain, but they began leaking into his every thought. No, he thought. Now wasn't the time for this.

Abruptly, he retrieved his wallet from his pocket and threw a handful of cash on the table. It was probably too much, he realized, but he didn't care. Money didn't mean anything to him now. He just needed to leave. Now.

 

He wandered with no aim, following his feet blindly. He hadn't noticed earlier because he was so drunk, but now he could feel the sadness leaking into every inch of body. It made his bones ache. He was tense too, accustomed to shoving the emotion from his thoughts. This is what Elena meant, he realized. She needed to heal, and so did he. Release your pain, she said. Find peace. He was no fool. He knew that his humanity had begun to return long ago, but it was the good part of humanity: joy, excitement, pleasure. Now his misery was pounding at his ribcage with the beat of his heart.

He stopped when he reached a tree, but it was not Stefan's tree. Close by, the Gilbert house sat dark and quiet in the night. The garden of vervain glowed in the light of the moon. This was Elena's tree, he realized. Abigail had told him about it.

He circled around to evaluate the rocks at the base. Jeremy was buried next to the empty grave of his sister, his makeshift tombstone much whiter than hers. He lowered himself to sit in front of her grave, dragging his fingers over the rough stone where her name was carved.

Now he really felt it. Heat rose to his ears and burned his throat. Every one of his instincts commanded him to bury it, run from it, turn it off, but he let it swallow him. He might as well have commissioned her tombstone, for he was as integral to her death as she was. It was his fault. She had been so disgusted with him that she flung herself off of a bridge. He had betrayed her. Guilt choked him, and he knew it was only the beginning because now he saw Elena, human Elena, with all of her frailty, hugging her round belly hidden beneath her dress. The baby, he thought, a low sob breaking through his throat. I killed the baby.

-41-


	42. Memories

**Part I**

**Chapter XLII**

**1963**

**Mystic Falls, Virginia**

"Don't be scared."

The words were soft like flower petals coming out of Elena's mouth, but they were deadly like nightshade, too. A girl cowered beneath her, her face buried in her knees and hidden behind a wall of dark brown curls. "It won't hurt," Elena cooed almost mechanically, like she was reading a script. She reached out and took the girl in her arms, running her fingers through the soft silk of her hair. Her arms wrapped around Elena's neck, light as feathers, but shaking. "Don't cry, my darling. It hurts me to hear you cry." There was a final sob and a hiccup before the girl was silent. Her pulse throbbed loudly in her throat, right against Elena's ear. The flush of her skin was hot on Elena's. She smelled so sweet. Elena could feel her face change as her fangs slid from her gums.

Elena pulled the girl's hair back from her neck, kissing the small spot above her pulse. Her skin gave way to her mouth like butter. The blood was hot and sweet in her mouth. She could not help but to let out a soft moan at the taste, but then the blood was too sweet, too hot. It raced through her veins like acid, burning her.

She opened her eyes, suddenly scared, but she was no longer the one feeding. A head of jet black hair burrowed in her neck, and the pain was suddenly only at his mouth. Where had the girl gone? Then she realized that she was the girl. She tried to say something, move, cry out, but she could not. A pair of arms were around her so tightly she couldn't breathe. It felt like she might snap.

Then the pain was gone.

"Good girl," the voice said. She looked down to the head of hair, leaning against her shoulder and breathing hard. Damon pulled his head up to face her, his eyes a shocking dose of color in the black room. His fingers brushed a tear from her face. "This is the last time," he said. "I promise." He smiled, and god he looked so beautiful that she wanted to believe him. She looked down at his mouth and his teeth were stained by the red sheen of her blood. Her stomach rolled. "Close your eyes," he said. "When you wake up, all of this will be over. You will go on as though this never happened. All will be well."

A sigh of relief filled and deflated her lungs. Of course Damon would take care of everything. She nodded and he kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Close your eyes," he whispered.

And she did.

 

Elena's eyes flew open, suddenly alert. A cold sweat coated her forehead, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. The dream had felt so real. She sat up to evaluate the room, just in case. The room was empty except for its furniture; the bed she slept on, a small dresser, and a matching desk. In the corner, a cracked white heater buzzed under the window. Damon was not there.

She evaluated the feeling in her stomach. Was it disappointment or relief? They all felt the same.

A car's engine roared to life somewhere outside of her open window. Dusk glared on the horizon and a sliver of orange sunlight bathed her feet in warm light. Outside, she could hear the night coming to a boil. Voices filled the air as people came to enjoy the night, and someone was lightly strummed a guitar around the corner.

Her face was swollen and stained bright blue and black from her makeup. A small spot on her pillow was the same color. She had cried herself to sleep. She shuffled to the bathroom and flicked on the light. It was small, barely big enough to hold her and the door open at the same time. Rather than look at her reflection, she dunked her head straight into cold stream of water from the tap.

She felt dirty. Her makeup must have run into her chair, and she suddenly felt angry that she was even wearing any. In her day, anyone could have a nice cry, throw some cold water on their face and move on with their day. Giving up on her sallow reflection, she drew a bath. She opened the window to let out the steam from the piping-hot water. Someone played Bob Dylan from a radio nearby.

She laid in the tub with a cool rag over her eyes and a cigarette between her lips, humming along to the music. Her insides were begging for move, to get ready, and feed, but she was enjoying the peace for the moment. Returning to one's humanity was an exhausting business. Everyday was either dedicated to wallowing either in grief or guilt. Every moment that she wasn't crying was precious.

The sun was long gone and her bath water was lukewarm by the time she rose. She dressed slowly, picking each garment delicately from her neatly folded drawers. She chose a short, shapeless dress with thin black and white stripes. Her jacket dipped just a little below her dresses hem. This was her favorite outfit, not that she appreciated being so bare to the world, but men seemed to like this the most. She put her makeup on thick and her hair was big. She looked like a painting, but not a good one. She was a cartoon character, a doll. Nobody would be scared of her when she looked like this.

That was the plan now. No longer did she wander the streets feeding on anyone and everyone dumb enough to stand in arm's reach. Now she waited for her prey to come to her, and they always did. Nobody looked at Elena Gilbert thought of her as a predator. Surviving was easing, but living was hard.

Without wasting another moment, she flew through the door and down the stairs. The concierge barely looked up from his paper as she walked through the lobby. She didn't bother to say anything; she wouldn't be staying at this hotel long. There was not a soul alive in Mystic Falls who knew her name anymore. She only came to see Jeremy, and little Goliath, who was buried under his own little tombstone. Then she would disappear in the wind once more, off on a journey of self-discovery and self-hatred.

Elena walked in no particular direction. Her little heals clacked across the sidewalk in a nice steady beat. She twirled a piece of hair between her fingers and swung her hips back and forth as she walked. There was no more to do on her part. Just walk. However, a long time passed, longer than usual, and nobody came. She frowned. Where had everyone gone?

After almost an hour, she finally spotted some, a man, leaning against the outer wall of a grocery store. The smoke of his cigarette obscured his face in the artificial yellow light of the store. The smell of smoke filled her lungs and she couldn't tell what she wanted more: one of his cigarettes or one of his arteries.

She approached him carefully, taking an unthreatening stance. "Excuse me, mister?"

He looked up sullenly, not removing the cigarette from his mouth. "Yeah?"

"Do you have a light?"

He raised an eyebrow in her direction. "You look a little young to smoke."

She blinked up at him from under her thick eyelashes. A little smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I'm not so young."

"No?"

"You'd be surprised."

He dug into the back pocket of his pants and held out an old black lighter. She skipped forward happily, plucking it from his fingers and slipping her other hand into her pockets. She feigned a grimace, and the man watched as she searched through her pockets with false confusion. "Oh," she said.

He rolled his eyes and pulled a half-empty pack of Phillies from his other pocket to offer to her. She suppressed the urge to grimace; of course the one man she happened upon in the whole town would be carrying the worst-tasting cigarettes in the United States of America. "Thanks," she said quietly.

As she exhaled the first lung-full of smoke, she looked the man in the face again. He was morose, silent. His shoulders sagged under his red suspenders, making him look shorter than he really was.

"Quiet tonight," she remarked.

"As it should be."

Her eyebrows drew together, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You haven't heard?"

"I don't suppose so."

A suspicious scowl twisted his mouth in her direction. "You pullin' my leg?"

A laugh twisted its way up her throat, but she fought it back. The man didn't seem to think anything was funny. "No, sir."

He sighed, rubbing the back of his hand over his forehead. "They shot the president today."

Elena's stomach jumped. She hadn't expected that. "President Kennedy?"

"Yup."

"He was shot? With a gun?"

"Yup?"

"Who?"

He shrugged, taking another drag.

She did the same. Her room at the hotel had no television, no radio, and she had slept the length of the day. How long would she have gone without knowing if she hadn't spoken to this man?

Her ears got hot when she thought about it. She could remember the day she found out he was elected. Kennedy was a Catholic. Her father must have turned over in his grave; he was a Protestant. Elena had thought he was so handsome during his campaign. "Did he…"

"Yup."

"Oh."

She stood for a second longer. She couldn't eat. "Thank you so much for the cigarette," she said. This man was not going to attack her, so there was no point in attacking him.

He only nodded.

As she walked away, though she wasn't sure if she was going in the direction of her hotel, she could feel tears in the corners of her eyes. It felt silly. She never voted. She never paid attention to politics or the news. This was not her generation. These were not her people. This was not her world to get involved in. She was immortal, above it. She had no place to affect their futures. But now she was weeping over a dead president. In her defense, she cried at everything those days; the result of never crying for a century. The tears came heavier as she began to think of his wife and children. She was thinking of her father again. Then she was thinking of her mother, Jeremy, and of course, Damon.

She looked up at a dim street sign, trying to gather her bearings. She couldn't remember how many blocks she had walked.

"You lost?"

She turned to the voice. It was a stout man with thick arms. His eyes were black as beetles, crawling over the length of her body. The look alone was enough to understand that he had no intention to give a helpless girl direction. "Yes," she sniffled. At lease she wouldn't have to fake her tears with this one.

"Where you headed?"

"I'm staying in a hotel," she explained, "called the Paragon."

"Yeah, I know it. Follow me."

She did as she was told, walking a foot away from him to appear skittish.

"What are you in town for?"

She needed to establish a story, lead him to believe that nobody would miss her. "I…" she began, sniffling pathetically. "I don't know. I had nowhere else to go."

He peeked at her from the corner of his eye. "You one of those runaways?"

"I guess so."

"You stayin' with anybody?"

"My boyfriend was with me, but he stole all my money and stormed off. I don't know what I'm going to do."

He reached over to put a hand on her shoulder and she tried not to smirk. This one would be easy. "Sorry to hear that. Maybe you should go home to mommy and daddy."

"I can't go back there."

He nodded and turned abruptly down a street that Elena immediately knew was the wrong direction.

"You're sure this is the right way?" she said.

"Don't worry, baby. Just follow me."

The streets grew quieter with each step and the street lights grew farther apart. Perfect, she thought because now she could really turn it on, crossing her arms in front of her chest and biting her lip. "I feel like this the wrong way."

Sensing her trepidation, the man smiled at her, showing off his long brown teeth. "It's the street right up here." It was a lie, but his heart did not beat any faster, nor did he show any other signs of deception. This bothered Elena. How often had he led girls through the dark streets, calling them "baby" and lying about where he was taking them?

She picked up the pace, walking faster toward the street like any other girl would. There was an electronics store ahead, the last building before the next street, and she could feel his heart beating faster as he prepared to grab her. Just as they passed the space between the store and a pet shop, a strong hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her from the path. She yelped, but allowed him to drag her into the shadows of the buildings. "What are you doing?" she gasped.

He didn't answer. One hand gripped her throat and the other gripped her waist. She allowed him to get comfortable, to think his plan had worked. His hand brushed past her knee and up her thigh, and she pushed him away just enough to free her hands. "Come on, baby," he growled.

Her hand flew up to his neck and she pushed him into the bricks of the opposite building. She could hear a snap from one of his bones under her fingers and he cried out. "Come on, baby," she mimicked. "Don't scream."

His eyes widened in disbelief as he did just as he was told. His mouth shut and tears slipped out of the corners of his eyes. Her teeth slid from her gums and she barred them like an animal. She wanted him to be scared, to struggle. She wanted his blood to be hot, like in her dream. She bit into the crease of his elbow instead of his dirt-streaked neck. Another groan suppressed itself inside of his chest. She drank him slow, drawing out his death as long as her body would allow.

Far from her mind were thoughts of dead presidents and humans. When she fed, feelings did not exist. Only blood.

 

Outside of dreams, human memories fade. No longer could Elena recall the exact shade of pink of her old bedroom, nor the way the land smelled in the early hours of the day; fresh, invigorating, covered in dew. Damon's smell as a human, fresh linen and the salt of sweat, once so comforting, had faded from memory. She had long forgotten what her mother and father looked like, and Jeremy would forever be a shriveled old man in her mind's eye. Gone were the memories of his youth and unending curiosity. She couldn't recall the name of her favorite horse or the color of her favorite dress. All that seemed to remain was the smell of blood that poured from between her legs when her baby died. Once a vessel of life, she would forever remain a portal of death. The memory and emotion stuck so strongly to her, that even as her strongest and most unfeeling self could not hide it away.

She crawled into bed without even removing her shoes. The scent of blood was still on her lips. Closing her eyes, she waited for the face to come, and she knew it would. The memory was cloudy, so Elena must have not been paying attention to the face. There was a woman, a tall woman wearing trousers. Elena remembered seeing her walking out of a bank, and though she was not hungry, she knew she wanted this woman. She was strong, just as Elena anticipated, and her blood was so warm that steam rose into the cold December air as Elena fed.

Her cheeks flushed at the memory, and she jammed her eyes as tightly shut as she could manage. "I'm sorry," she said, though the woman couldn't hear her now. Even as the last bit of life drained from her face, the woman still fought as much as she could. Her hands were in Elena's hair, lightly tugging as though to pull her away. Elena never knew her name.

She said a little prayer, though she knew that God must have stopped listening a long time ago. Then she saw the memory of Damon, his eyes searing into hers. "What have you done?"

A phantom of pleasure waved through her body at his reaction. "I was hungry," she shrugged. Blood was dripping down her chin.

He glanced around to make sure nobody was watching before heaving the woman over his shoulder. "You can't keep doing this in broad daylight."

"They're warmer during the day," Elena pouted.

"How am I supposed to take her away from here?"

"Just leave her."

He dropped the woman and was suddenly right in front of her. "Why do you do this?" he said through his teeth. "We'll have to leave again."

Elena leaned up to brush her lips against his, leaving a streak of blood in her stead. "She was so strong, Damon. I needed her."

The veins under his eyes were like purple snakes slithering down his cheeks and into his jaw. He was hungry. "Stop."

But she was already pushing him up against the dirty bricks behind him. "I wish I had a modicum of your control," she smirked. Her mouth was just below his, waiting for him to take the bate.

He stared down at her, not breathing, keeping his jaw tightly shut. His eyes were slits and the vein his forehead throbbed. "We have to get out of here."

"Just taste her," Elena purred. "Then you will understand. Then you won't be mad at me." Her lips brushed his again and her strong arms locked around him.

The longer he deliberated, the weaker his will grew. He ran his tongue across the blood on his bottom lip. Elena could see his fangs. This battle was over. His face slammed into hers and suddenly she was the one with her back to her wall. In the distance, she could hear footsteps approaching. Damon could too, for he stopped moving. His face slid away from hers and all of his anger was gone. Damon was gone. He was a hunter now, and she was too. He took her hand and pulled her down the alley, neither of them making a sound.

Elena forced her eyes open, scared to watch the rest of the memory. They had killed a group of working men. And Damon was right: they did have to leave that town once it was all over.

The sun was high in the sky, but Elena couldn't lull herself back to sleep. She sat up, wiping the black streaks of her makeup from her cheeks. She thought about taking another bath, just as she did everyday when she woke up, but it didn't matter if she looked horrible; nobody knew her here.

The city was still relatively quiet. People must have been mourning, she realized. She walked for a while with her head down, eventually lighting a cigarette just for something to do. Nearby, she heard children laughing. It was a Saturday, but the playground of Mystic Falls Elementary School was occupied by a few children and their mothers. Elena watched from afar, suddenly nervous. She walked slowly across the street and through the grass, taking a seat on the far side of playground on an unoccupied bench. Watching the children brought an eerie calm to her bones, but she couldn't help but to watch the mothers. Most wore sunglasses and big coats. Some were smoking cigarettes or carrying children that were too small to play. They seemed so comfortable, talking to one another, laughing, occasionally turning to look for their child and shouting something like, "Don't pick that up, Jimmy! It's dirty!"

She felt cold watching them, envious. Occasionally, a child would stroll back to their mother, asking for a treat or allowing her to wipe their nose. Sometimes the mother would lift the child up onto her lap and turn to her friend and say something like, "My little Annie won the spelling bee last week!" and then she would squeeze the little girl and nuzzle kisses into her soft neck. Elena wanted to do that; to wrap her fingers around a child's arm without having to worry if her grasp was too tight, to burrow into their necks with a smile and not listen to the tiny flutter of their heartbeat in their neck.

"You need'a tissue, Miss?"

Elena jumped a little at the noise. She hadn't notice someone had come to sit on the bench next to her. It was a young boy, no older than nine, she guessed. His coat looked a little big for him and his hat a little too small; his ears were red. "Excuse me?"

The boy searched around in his pocket for a moment before extracting a palm full of wadded up tissue paper. He peeled one from the ball and extended it to her, his earnest face peering up at her patiently. She hadn't realized she was crying either. "Thank you," she said quietly. She glanced over at the mothers, trying to guess which was his, but none of them looked their way.

The boy shrugged. "Mom says I'm gettin' sick. Makes me carry these stupid things around."

His mother was right; Elena could smell sickness in his blood. She tried to rub the new black streaks away from her cheeks, and the boy looked away politely. "Where is your mother?" she asked.

"She's been listening to the radio all morning. She said the president died. She's all torn up about it… told me I needed to get out of the house. She even forgot that I'm supposed to be sick or something."

Elena nodded. "Don't you want to go play?"

He shrugged again. "Johnny Ferguson's mom said he couldn't come out and Willy Michaels has the flu. Playing on the playground isn't any fun without your friends. "

Elena couldn't help but to laugh a little. "Do you always come to the park to talk to strangers?"

He frowned a little. "Mom always told me not to, but you're just a girl. Anyways, I saw you were sad." He snuck a peak at her through the corner of his eyes. "Are you sad about what happened yesterday too?"

She thought about it for a moment, and decided that yes, she was sad, though that was not the reason she was crying. "Yes."

He nodded.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Phineas," he grimaced. "My friends call me Finn."

"What would you have me call you?"

He looked at her suspiciously for a second, his nose scrunched up at her. "You talk funny."

"I'm not from around here."

He eyed her for a second longer and then turned to face the park again. "You can call me Finn, I guess."

She nodded.

"Aren't you going to tell me your name?"

"Elena, and my friends called me Elena." What was the bigger joke, that it was the same name or that she had no friends to call her either?

"So, what?" he grimaced. "Are you meeting your boyfriend here or something?"

"No," Elena laughed. "Are you?"

"No!" he blushed. "My sisters always come to the park to meet their boyfriends." He rolled his eyes dramatically before looking at her. "They think I don't know, but I see them all the time. I'm just biding my time before I tell mom."

"No one likes a tattle-tale," Elena said, amused.

"Whatever. It's not like they'll get in trouble anyway. They all get away with everything. I'm the only one around here who ever gets in trouble."

"Why is that?"

"I have seven brothers and sisters, and I'm the youngest. It's my curse."

"That is a predicament."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

Elena nodded, trying not to appear tense. "A brother."

"Is he older or younger?"

"Younger."

He nodded his head slowly, "Poor guy."

She smiled a little, but she felt her eyes growing misty again.

"You need more tissue?"

She meant to say no, but he had already reached into his little pocket and procured another handful. "I'm sure you're a real good sister. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything."

Then she really was crying, blubbering almost, as a swell of misery hit her. Usually, she couldn't tell what was worse, guilt or sadness, but now she felt both. The boy looked surprised at first, and another sob racked Elena's body when she realized that she had probably scared him off. Then a small and warm hand was in hers. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"It's not your fault. My sisters get weepy sometimes too."

"They do?"

He shook his head, annoyed. "Mom says it's a girl thing."

She laughed through a sob. "Oh. "

He went to hand her another tissue and then changed his mind, grabbing the entire wad from his pocket and putting it in her hand. "You need 'em more than me."

"I'm not usually like this. You just… remind me of someone."

"Who?"

"I never knew him."

He raised an eyebrow, "You're a weird lady."

"I know."

-42-


End file.
